


tell me your problems (i'll chase them away)

by WordsAblaze



Series: Witcher Fics [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel (The Witcher) Needs a Hug, Exhaustion, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Healing, Holding Hands, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecurity, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sirens, Slow Burn, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Sweet Eskel (The Witcher), Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), actual communication occurs thank the gods, i usually ship geraskier but we don't like geralt very much in this one, jaskel, love at first insecurity reveal, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't, not all witchers are as emotionally constipated as geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it's the last thing he does…
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion - Relationship
Series: Witcher Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726360
Comments: 380
Kudos: 804
Collections: Witcher





	1. i see your pain

**Author's Note:**

> accidentally sank into this ship and somehow whipped this up at 3am so i'll just leave it here...  
> title from monsters by timeflies :p

Eskel is familiar with physical scars. 

How could he not be, with them making up half his face? 

He'd had to become familiar with them whilst training, growing up, travelling the path, trying to survive. 

Countless cuts and scratches and bites had led to countless scars, scars that he barely even pays attention to anymore because he'd become so used to them. 

But that was just _physical_ scars.

Obvious, external reminders of battles and people and memories he often wishes he could forget. 

He can turn away from his reflection and keep his hands away from his skin and avoid the gaze of judgemental townsfolk and sometimes, it's _almost_ as if he can't see his scars anymore. 

Unfortunately, not all scars are physical. 

Some are deeper, etched into hearts rather than flesh, invisible to most and impossible to forget. 

Well, not so impossible if Eskel has anything to say about it. 

To be fair, he usually doesn't. 

But for Jaskier? 

He makes an exception for Jaskier from the very moment their paths cross…

* * *

Eskel groans internally as the innkeeper's nose wrinkles up in disgust. 

It's the third time he's done that during their conversation and he's rather tired of it. 

He _knows_ he's covered in innards, thank you very much, but he isn't going to do anything about it until he gets his coin. Being refused payment is nothing new but he needs it this time, the cursed beast had ruined his armour. 

"Must you be so-" the innkeeper starts, clearly about to insult him. 

But he's interrupted by someone slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

It's been an age since anyone has done anything of the sort and he's equally as confused as he is annoyed. He _might_ also be a little bit relieved but he'd never admit how nice it feels, not even to himself. 

So he tenses, fighting every impulse in his body that screams at him to throw the stranger off. 

"Gorgeous? Why yes, he must," the stranger interjects, and suddenly he's not so much of a stranger anymore. 

Eskel doesn't frequent public places often and he rarely pays attention to bards but he'd recognise _that_ voice anywhere. 

"And since this lovely witcher has just done your town a favour, it's in your best interest _not_ to insult him."

And even if he didn't, there's only one human who's known to have a habit of defending witchers. 

Jaskier spares him a sideways wink before staring pointedly at the innkeeper, who looks just as confused as Eskel feels. 

He's not sure if that's because Jaskier had appeared out of nowhere or because he'd just been referred to as both _gorgeous_ and _lovely_ , but either way, he finds he doesn't know what to do. 

"Now, do be a dear and run the poor darling a warm bath, will you? I know you have no rooms left so you can have it sent to mine. That is, unless you wish for me to stop playing?" 

Jaskier raises an eyebrow and Eskel can't help but smirk, recognising the look of defeat on the innkeeper. 

"No, I- Of course. It'll be ready when you finish for the night."

The man disappears immediately and Eskel finally turns to Jaskier. "You're his bard."

If Jaskier didn't have an arm looped around his shoulders, Eskel wouldn't have noticed the flinch.

But mischievous blue eyes distract him before he can question it. "I was. But right now, I'm just the bard ordering you to go sit and brood in the corner and enjoy my performance."

Eskel's frown only deepens. "And if I say no?" 

Jaskier removes his arm from Eskel's shoulder and places his hands on his hips, both accusation and amusement dancing in his eyes. "You will _not_ do that because I absolutely refuse to waste a perfectly good bath."

"You could just use it," Eskel points out. 

It's a wasted argument, they can both smell the strong floral scents on Jaskier that suggest he's recently had his own bath. 

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier takes Eskel's arm and pulls him to the corner of the room, firmly guiding him into sitting down and sliding a drink towards him. 

"Drink up, darling, it's been made extra strong to suit your witcher-y needs."

As Eskel wonders how Jaskier could have known he was going to stay, the bard slips away and turns his attention to the crowd. 

Or rather, turns the crowd's attention to him. 

Apparently, Geralt had _severely_ understated Jaskier's abilities as a bard. 

He's in charge of the room as soon as he starts playing his lute, filling the place with an energy Eskel has only ever felt on hunts, making sure all eyes are on him as he travels from table to table. 

Eskel feels the faintest sting of bitter confusion when Jaskier refuses to even _glance_ in his direction, knowing that Geralt had commented on the bard's habit of drawing attention to him during performances. He can't help but wonder if it's because he's not as good as Geralt, if he's not as _appealing_ to look towards in the middle of a song. 

But when a man starts muttering darkly about witchers and Jaskier slyly spills ale all over his lap, Eskel realises it's just part of his plan.

Jaskier is making sure all the attention is on himself rather than on Eskel, as if he can tell how uncomfortable the witcher feels. 

It's difficult to fathom why someone who might not even know his name would go to such lengths for him with no hesitation. But really, can he be surprised when this is the bard who'd changed the fate of witchers?

He just can't figure out why Geralt isn't also here or why Jaskier claims to no longer be his bard, especially since they've all heard the plethora of songs about a white wolf. 

When everyone is satisfied and people have started leaving tips and drifting back to their rooms, Jaskier announces his departure and all but falls onto Eskel. 

He's breathing heavily but there's a wide grin on his face as he sees the empty mug on the table. 

"You drank it!" he says rather obviously. 

Eskel nods. "It was good."

And he's not lying. It really _had_ tasted good, much better than most drinks he's been served. 

Jaskier grins smugly. "I know, it's my recipe."

Eskel blinks. 

"But you, however gorgeous you may be, smell absolutely _appalling_. I believe you promised me a bath?" 

He could theoretically snap the bard in two but he finds himself unable to refuse as Jaskier steers him through the remaining crowd. 

They stop in front of the innkeeper, who sighs when he notices them. 

"Your bath awaits, bard."

Jaskier nods but doesn't move, raising an eyebrow. "I think you owe my friend here some payment, do you not?" 

Eskel glances at Jaskier in confusion, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Why would he so recklessly associate himself with Eskel despite having just met him? 

The innkeeper seems to know better than to argue this time, simply handing over a pouch and waving a hand. "A little more than promised as a token of... apology." 

Jaskier beams at the man. "I _knew_ you were a good soul! We'll see about earning you more coin with another performance in the morning…" 

And with that promise, he takes the coin and guides them both upstairs. 

Eskel takes a moment to appreciate the way Jaskier can take full control of a situation so effortlessly before realising _he's_ also victim to one of those situations. 

"My horse-" 

"I took care of it," Jaskier interrupts, pulling him inside a room and shoving him towards the bath. 

"You did?" Eskel asks, frowning yet again. 

Jaskier scoffs. "Do stop worrying your facial muscles, daring, of _course_ I did. I know how witchers work."

Eskel chooses not to reply to that, simply staring at the bath that he still can't believe was brought up for him. By an innkeeper who'd _apologised_ for his words. 

He can't help but wonder if he's being referred to by terms of endearment because Jaskier doesn't know what else to refer to him by or if he's just like that with everyone. Geralt _had_ complained that the bard could be overwhelming so the latter seems likely. 

Jaskier bites his lip. "Do you… Do you need me to leave?" 

He sounds so unsure of himself, so unlike how he'd been a mere minute ago, that Eskel finds himself shaking his head before he can consider his options. 

"It's your room, I couldn't kick you out of it," he says slowly. 

Jaskier beams at him. "I'll stay out of your hair, though, I promise. Just make sure you don't smell like the insides of a monster when you're done."

Eskel nods as Jaskier places the coin pouch on the small bedside desk before settling on the bed and starting to scribble something. 

Within minutes, Eskel has slipped out of his armour and into the warm water - it shouldn't still be so warm after so long, not unless someone had been told to make it extra hot specifically for a witcher - and his eyes have started to close at how _good_ it feels in comparison to cold rivers. 

It's nice, _truly_ nice, and he lets himself forget about the rest of the world as his muscles slowly begin to relax. 

He only remembers to move when he hears a pointed cough. 

His eyes shooting open, water splashes as he sits upright to see Jaskier leaning forwards and smirking at him, but not unkindly. 

"I know I said _I'd_ stay out of your hair but how long do you plan to keep all that foul-smelling stuff in there?" 

Eskel is still trying to process how he'd started to let his guard down in the presence of a relative stranger when he realises he'd literally forgotten to actually _bathe_. 

Jaskier doesn't seem to be laughing at him though. If anything, he looks a little sad.

"They're not too bad," Eskel says eventually, resisting the urge to smile when Jaskier gasps dramatically. 

" _Excuse_ me? You're in the same room as my beautiful oils and salts and you _dare_ to suggest that innards smell better? I should think _not_!" 

And somehow, Jaskier is beside the bath within the blink of an eye, all but glaring down at him. "Now, you're going to sit still while I take care of that beautiful hair of yours, understood?" 

Amused, Eskel just nods. 

He's no longer amused when Jaskier gets to work though, he doesn't have time to be amused when he's too busy being pleasantly _shocked_. 

Jaskier's fingers make their way through his hair in the same way they play his lute: softly and gently but also firmly, expertly, as if he's done so a million times before. 

No wonder Geralt's hair had always looked surprisingly good. 

"All done," Jaskier whispers after what feels like an eternity. 

Eskel opens his eyes and forces himself not to groan at the loss of Jaskier's touch - it would be _ridiculous_ to miss something he's only felt once.

"Thank you," he whispers back, not wanting Jaskier to regret helping him. 

To his surprise, Jaskier blinks as if he'd never been thanked before. There's a flicker of confusion in his eyes before he recovers and stands with a soft smile. "It's truly my pleasure, darling."

Eskel frowns at the repeated term, wondering once again why Jaskier throws such affection so freely, so thoughtlessly. 

"Will you be staying the night?" Jaskier's question pulls him out of his thoughts. 

Oh. 

Is he meant to stay? 

Would it be rude to use both someone's bath and room or is he meant to provide company to return the favour? 

Jaskier chuckles. "Don't think so hard, you'll get wrinkles. You're welcome to stay if you wish but I won't be so selfish as to demand it."

He knows he probably shouldn't but there's something so sad about Jaskier expecting nothing in return for his deeds - mostly because he can see the mindset of a witcher in that logic - that he offers the bard a smile. 

"I owe you for the bath. Do you wish for me to stay?" 

Jaskier looks at him in bewilderment before his eyes light up and he grins widely enough for it to look painful. "Would you? Witchers are just _so_ warm and the nights can be dreadfully cold…"

Eskel pauses, glancing between Jaskier and the bed, the _one_ bed, to make sure he's interpreting the request correctly. 

"You want me to… share the bed with you?" 

Jaskier bites his lip, seemingly regretting his words. 

His hands fidget as he shakes his head and looks away, moving his things to the floor. "No, no, sorry, I can't ask- It would be unfair of me to make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

Comfort is rare for Eskel and despite the bard's reputation, he's beginning to think it is for Jaskier too. 

"I didn't bring my bedroll," Eskel says casually. 

After a slight pause, Jaskier frowns at him, a small smile then gracing his face once more. "Well then, you'll just _have_ to share the bed with me. It wouldn't do to stiffen up those stunning muscles, now, would it?" 

Glad that Jaskier is no longer wallowing in the bitter scent of regret, Eskel finally lifts himself out of the bath. 

Jaskier's eyes widen and his breath hitches before he practically dives under the bed. 

He reappears before Eskel can express any concern, holding out a small pile of clothes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I, uh… your clothes need washing but you can use these for now."

"Why do you have them?" 

Jaskier shrugs. "Might have rescued them from a man who was letting them collect dust…"

Eskel wonders what the rest of that story is but he'd rather not make Jaskier uncomfortable by inquiring so he simply takes the clothes and slips them on. 

Once he's done, Jaskier smiles, having settled under the blanket. "Are you going to join me or simply admire those clothes all night?" 

Eskel snorts but slips under the blanket, unsure of how close Jaskier wants him to be. He doesn't know exactly what Jaskier was like with Geralt and even if he did, there's no guarantee it'd be the same with him. 

But Jaskier is having none of his hesitation and turns so he can curl himself towards Eskel. 

"Is this okay?" Jaskier breathes. 

Eskel shivers ever so slightly. He moves closer instead of audibly replying, relieved when Jaskier gets the message and smiles, closing the remaining gap between them. 

He honestly doesn't know if he has the right to be doing this. If someone like him, just another witcher, has the right to this kind of intimacy. 

"Goodnight, Eskel."

Oh.

Jaskier does know his name. 

He knows _exactly_ who he is and he'd not only let but invited him stay anyway. 

With a smile that he'd never confess to, Eskel waits until the bard is asleep before taking the time to appreciate everything about the sheer, unadulterated kindness of the moment. 

He doesn't even notice himself drift off. 

* * *

A life filled with affection had never seemed likely for Eskel but Jaskier makes it seem tangible. 

He's willing to give his love to Eskel and Eskel's scars without a second thought so it would be wrong not to ensure the favour is returned. 

It's really quite logical that he helps Jaskier overcome the problems he can't even tell he's dragging around. 

And it's _definitely_ just because he owes the bard for improving his reputation and getting him his coin, not because something in his chest burns at the thought of the bard's wounds never being allowed to fade.

His own scars will never disappear but he vows to heal whatever scars Jaskier doesn't know he has, no matter how long it takes.

It's only _fair_ , after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a vague plan but i do have two other witcher WIPs atm so we'll see where this goes... i do love this ship though - if anyone has any fic recs, pls send them my way !!
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos / comment?


	2. i'll make it okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really didn't think people would be very interested in my ramblings but it's good to know there's a fair amount of people here for jaskel !! thanks for all the love <3

A knock on the door wakes them. 

Well, it's not actually a knock. It's just someone falling into their door on their way to find breakfast. 

But both Eskel and Jaskier blink themselves awake at the noise, Eskel springing out of bed and grabbing one of his swords where Jaskier just sits up and glares daggers at the door. 

By the time they realise it isn't anyone trying to get or break in, it's far too late to pretend they're still sleepy. 

"You're still here?" Jaskier asks, tilting his head to one side. 

Eskel sheaths his sword before raising an eyebrow. "Was I meant to chase after them for being clumsy?" 

Jaskier frowns before shaking his head, somehow missing the fact that it was meant to be a joke. "No, no, of course not, that'd be ridiculous. I just meant, don't you witchers like to be moving before even the sun is awake?" 

Apparently Jaskier is as much of a mystery in the morning as he is in the evening. 

Eskel nods slowly. "Well yes, that's how we avoid trouble, but it'd be rude to have left without thanking you." 

Jaskier yawns widely before waving a hand dismissively. "You already thanked me yesterday, silly."

Before Eskel can explain that he'd only thanked Jaskier for the drink and bath rather than for letting him stay in his room, in his  _ bed,  _ Jaskier's eyes widen and he's scrambling to find his clothes. 

"Oh, for the love of Meletite, I was meant to perform this morning! How could I forget? Stupid,  _ stupid- _ Where's my- Aha! Lute? Lute… ah,  _ there _ you are! Oh, perfect, beautiful as always. Now  _ where _ did I- of course, wonderful, bless that tailor and his skilled hands… Anyway, do I have time to-? No, probably not but… oh, wait,  _ this'll _ do!"

Eskel simply stands to one side and watches as Jaskier assembles himself. It's more amusing than he'd like to admit and he's somehow smiling by the time Jaskier finally turns to him with a strange look. 

"Seriously, you're  _ still _ here? Well, if you don't have anywhere to be, I can offer you another drink?" 

There's hope laced in Jaskier's words and the average person may have missed it but Eskel is used to looking for it so he offers Jaskier a small smile. "Sounds good."

Jaskier quite literally  _ lights _ up at his words, grinning widely. "Great! I'll go and get started, you should find yesterday's spot still open for you so take your time!" 

And with that, he slips out of the door, taking his lute with him. 

He's seen a lot over the years but Eskel has never seen anyone switch between half-asleep and chaotic so quickly. He tells himself he's only going to stay because he owes it to Jaskier,  _ not _ because he's curious or worried or anything like that. And it's _absolutely_ not because he hasn't smiled so much in what feels like an eternity. 

Either way, once he's slipped his jacket on - taking a moment to mourn the loss of half his shoulder spikes, of course - he heads down to where he can hear Jaskier singing. 

"Your drink, from Jaskier," a girl says as soon as he's sat down, sliding a mug towards him and slipping away as fast as possible. 

Eskel wonders how Jaskier had managed to so quickly organise that, eat his breakfast, and already have the attention of most people in the room.

And rightly so, because he’s _magnificent_ \- nobody would be able to guess how frantic he’d been before. Well, nobody except _Eskel_ , who can’t help but appreciate the way Jaskier makes himself seem so coordinated so quickly; he briefly wonders if it has anything to do with travelling alongside Geralt.

It's a much shorter performance than yesterday but the innkeeper seems satisfied regardless because he's all smiles when Jaskier walks over to him after finishing up and seems to strike up conversation. 

After a few minutes, Jaskier walks over to him with two plates of food and winks. "I _really_ didn't expect you to stay until the end but obviously you needed me to order you food, huh?" 

"What?" 

He's not even sure if he's questioning why Jaskier hadn't expected him to stay or why there are  _ two _ plates of food or why Jaskier even thought he  _ wanted _ food. 

Jaskier just pushes one of the plates towards him and settles into the seat opposite, his lute next to him as if it were another person.

"You can't very well leave without a decent meal if you're in my company," Jaskier says, almost daring him to argue. 

He doesn't, only because the food smells fresh and denying Jaskier seems foolish. 

But… 

"You didn't eat before?" Eskel asks. 

Jaskier shakes his head, a puzzled look on his face. "I hadn't performed yet and this way, both of us can save some coin."

It sounds logical enough but what did the bard do when innkeepers didn't want to offer free meals in exchange for performances? Surely between them, Geralt and Jaskier would have had enough coin to eat meals without having to negotiate for them?

Jaskier kicks him under the table. 

Wincing, Eskel turns to him with a frown, surprised when he sees the bard simply eating, not even looking his way. 

"You were glaring at nothing, darling, it's bad for business," Jaskier explains eventually, and Eskel is almost embarrassed for not having noticed he was doing so. 

Not wanting to explain his thoughts, he lets them finish their rather average but still decent meal in silence. 

It doesn't take long and soon enough, they're heading back upstairs, Jaskier taking the lead. He stops to talk to the girl who'd given Eskel his drink earlier and laughs at whatever she says, whispering something to her before continuing. 

As Eskel passes her, she holds her hand out and offers him a coin, smiling hesitantly. 

Oh, the  _ song _ . 

"Thanks," he says gently and she nods quickly, disappearing to serve someone else. 

"Did you ask her to do that?" he questions Jaskier once they're in his room again. 

Jaskier laughs again. "No, she just heard me play the song yesterday and wanted to convey her gratitude to witchers." 

The gratitude that didn't  _ exist _ before he'd composed his song. 

"I'll have to thank Geralt for letting you accompany him in Posada, then," Eskel jokes. 

But it falls flat on Jaskier, who _flinches_.

He takes a deep breath and grins just as Eskel makes to question it, though. "No need, darling, it's not really like he  _ let  _ me, more that he didn't quite know how to get rid of me. I'm very stubborn, you know? Just ask, uh,  _ anyone, _ really… Although there  _ might _ be a few more popular choices depending on-" 

"Jaskier," Eskel interrupts, confused again. 

Despite having just called himself stubborn, Jaskier stops talking  _ immediately _ , biting his lip as regret radiates from him.

"Why would he want to get rid of you?" Eskel asks softly. 

Jaskier only bites down harder on his lip, hard enough for Eskel to smell  _ blood _ . But Eskel still waits, just in case Jaskier simply needed a moment to collect himself before answering.

Eventually, Jaskier shakes his head. "I can't- It's not… Hasn't he told you already? Or haven’t you guessed yet? Why do you need to make  _ me _ say it?" 

To Eskel's shock, he sounds like he's on the verge of tears. Never has Eskel so quickly regretted asking something, something that transforms the laughter from five minutes ago into tears. 

"I just wanted to…"

But Jaskier isn't listening. 

"I'm sorry, I'll just- I'll just go. It really was very nice meeting you, Eskel. This room is still yours until lunch." 

He's picked up his lute and gone before Eskel can even process his words. 

And Eskel is left staring at a closed door as he tries to figure out what he'd said that had caused such a reaction. He knows he can sound much harsher than he means to, he is a witcher after all, but Jaskier hadn't been bothered by that right up until… 

_ Geralt _ . 

He and Geralt must have fought. And Eskel had unknowingly reminded him of it,  _ repeatedly _ . 

Eskel curses.

But Jaskier is so much _ faster  _ than he’d anticipated and he’s nowhere in sight by the time Eskel reaches the bottom of the stairs. 

He groans, heading back up and quickly gathering his things before making his way to the stables where Scorpion seems to share his urgency and makes no fuss as he gets her ready. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs as they set off.

He’s not even entirely sure where he’s going but he thinks he can still smell honey and lavender so he follows the scent, groaning every time he hits a dead end and has to turn back to try another route. 

It’s pointless, though, because he finds no  _ physical _ trace of Jaskier at all; he seems to have disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived and Eskel circles back to the inn with a heavy heart.

“He left,” someone says as he dismounts Scorpion.

“Who?” Eskel asks, turning to find the girl who’d given him a coin earlier, “Jaskier?”

She nods, something sad in her eyes. “He left town.”

“What?” Eskel frowns, wondering why Jaskier had assumed that, out of the two of them,  _ he _ was the one who should leave, as if he didn’t deserve a roof over his head far more than Eskel. 

The girl shrugs. “He didn’t say why, but I thought you’d want to know.”

His expression softens as he looks at her again, offering her a smile. “I do, thank you.”

“Off we go, girl,” he whispers to Scorpion, the two of them heading off once more. 

He’s just glad he’d already finished his contract so he can go after Jaskier rather than having to delay it and risk not catching up with him because, who is he kidding, he _ definitely  _ isn’t just drawn to the bard due to  _ debt. _

Thankfully, Jaskier isn’t running.

He seems to be reluctantly pulling himself along and it’s only when Eskel draws closer that he realises the bard is  _ shaking _ . 

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier  freezes . 

He adjusts the lute case on his shoulders and turns slowly, as if expecting the worst. 

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’re sorry?” Jaskier echoes, his voice shaky and filled with wonder.

Eskel dismounts as quickly as possible before nodding. “Of course. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

Jaskier bites his lip again, only to promptly wince as he puts pressure on the small scab there. But instead of saying something, he just bites the other side of his lip and folds his arms. 

Eskel takes that as his cue to apologise again, pretending not to notice the way Jaskier’s eyes are red and watery. “I mean it, I just wanted to  _ thank _ you for your, uh, kindness. And I really don’t know what happened between the two of you but I won’t ask again if it’s not my place.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier’s face crumples and he stares at Eskel in nothing short of amazement, as if he’s never had anyone thank or apologise to him before - if Eskel finds out that  _ Geralt  _ had never done either of those, he’s going to punch him.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jaskier offers him a soft smile. “Okay, okay. I believe you.”

“You do?” Eskel finds himself asking before he can think about it, think about how that might seem suspicious or-

“You came after me, didn’t you? That’s proof enough for me,” Jaskier declares, still sniffling a little. 

Eskel finds himself smiling. 

And with that smile comes a very strange but not so unexpected urge to try and avoid losing Jaskier at all costs. Even if Geralt had idiotically chosen not to embrace what a  _ blessing  _ Jaskier is, there’s nothing saying he needs to make the same mistake.

“Please tell me your horse has a worthy name,” Jaskier says, interrupting his thoughts.

Eskel chuckles. “Jaskier, meet Scorpion.” 

Jaskier gasps like a child, running a hand along her mane and practically  _ giggling  _ when Scorpion huffs at him, undeterred. He pulls an apple out of absolutely nowhere and offers it to her, grinning smugly when she bites into it. 

“She likes you,” Eskel notes, only somewhat shocked at how quickly she’d taken to him since he shares that sentiment with her. 

Jaskier steps back as if he’d been burned, dropping the apple. He curses, swiftly picking it up and holding it out to Eskel. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- she’s just beautiful. I won’t… I won’t touch her again. I swear it.” 

Oh, he  _ undoubtedly  _ needs to punch Geralt when he sees him again.

But more importantly, he needs to clear Jaskier’s misconceptions about witchers and their horses. 

So he just shakes his head. “Who am  _ I  _ to say whether or not you can touch her? If she likes you, she likes you.” 

Jaskier frowns at him as if trying to find an alternate meaning to his words but settles on nodding slowly. “Thank you.”

Eskel lets him finish feeding her the apple and wishes Jaskier didn’t think he needed to thank him for it. In fact, Eskel should be thanking  _ him  _ because he’d forgotten to treat her before starting his search. 

It doesn’t take too long and Jaskier wipes his hands on his doublet before smiling at Eskel. “Well, I hope our paths cross again, darling.” 

“You what?” Eskel asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Jaskier looks alarmed. “You don’t like the name? Sorry, but why didn’t you tell me  _ sooner _ ? I wouldn’t have-”

“No, no, the name is… it’s fine. That’s not-” Eskel exhales audibly, frustrated. “Where are you going?”

Now Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Whichever town appears next, probably. Did you need something from me?”

What a strange time to live in, where a witcher is being asked if he needs something from someone rather than being told someone needs something from him.

“I just mean, what if our paths stayed the same?”

He might as well have punched Jaskier for the way his jaw drops.  To Jaskier's credit though, he regains composure relatively quickly, clearing his throat. “Just to clarify, darling… you  _ want _ me to follow you?”

No, that doesn’t sit quite right with Eskel.

“I want you to  _ travel  _ with me,” Eskel corrects, “even if that means  _ I _ end up following  _ you.” _

If Eskel thought Jaskier had lit up back at the inn, it was  _ nothing  _ compared to the way Jaskier’s whole face all but  _ glows  _ when he comprehends Eskel’s offer.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks breathlessly.

Eskel rolls his eyes. “Scorpion likes you and I’ve never been able to say no to her.” 

He’s not _ quite _ ready for Jaskier to throw himself at Eskel, his arms looped around his neck as he laughs brightly, but Eskel breathes a sigh of relief upon hearing it, glad that the first side of Jaskier he’d seen is back. 

He feels Jaskier freeze and easily anticipates him pulling back, stopping the movement by lifting his own arms and wrapping one around the bard, not forcefully enough to cage him in but firmly enough to silently reassure him that he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

When the tension melts from Jaskier once more, he loosens his grip, allowing yet another smile to bloom on his face as the warmth of the embrace surrounds them both. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier mumbles into his shoulder. 

Eskel resists the urge to shiver at the feeling and nods, patting Jaskier’s back. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jaskier hums in response and when he peels himself away, Eskel makes a note of every detail in his expression, from his soft but bright eyes to his messy but not unpleasantly so hair to the way his smile threatens to erase the very existence of sadness from the world. 

In the same way, Eskel promises himself he’s going to erase whatever keeps making Jaskier sad from existence, one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being mean to Jaskier but have no fear, Eskel is now here ;)  
> disclaimer: pls lmk if he's being ooc, my only knowledge of him comes from tumblr, fanfic, and fandom wiki...


	3. i can't explain this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a peculiar embodiment of eskel going "i've only had jaskier for one day but if anything happened to him, i would kill everyone on the continent (especially geralt) and then myself. but i don't understand why."

Jaskier starts walking before Eskel can ask him where he’s headed. 

He’s confused, of course, but he pulls himself up onto Scorpion and follows, assuming that the bard wants to keep his distance for now.

And they fall into a steady silence broken only ever so often by Jaskier starting to hum something before seemingly changing his mind and lapsing back into the quiet.

Eskel doesn’t question it at first but when he hears Jaskier start and stop humming _familiar_ tunes, not just something new he might be composing, he decides to intervene. “You can, um, hum if you want. Or sing, if you prefer… You don’t have to stay quiet.”

Jaskier stops walking.

He turns to look at Eskel with confusion in his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” he asks eventually, his fingers twisting over one another as he waits for Eskel’s reply. 

Once Eskel stops trying to figure out why Jaskier could be _nervous_ , he nods. “Of course. You have a good voice.”

At that, Jaskier beams, his eyes shining suspiciously bright as he clears his throat and winks. “ _Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger…”_

Eskel splutters slightly as the song progresses but doesn’t complain, laughing as Jaskier keeps going, his voice becoming louder and brighter with every chorus he sings, the sweet scent of confidence getting stronger and stronger.

“So, darling, a review?” Jaskier asks breathlessly once he’s stopped singing.

Eskel starts, having been more focused on Jaskier’s voice as opposed to the actual lyrics. “I like your voice,” he mumbles.

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.” 

“It is? Don’t you have taverns full of people admiring your voice?” Eskel points out.

There’s a long moment of silence before Jaskier shakes his head. “Yes, I suppose I can, but people usually have something to say about the daughter’s hunger before they even _think_ about giving their opinions on my _voice_ ,” he admits, somehow sounding both proud and mournful at the same time.

Eskel hums in response, not quite sure what he’s meant to say since he can’t tell if Jaskier is happy with his feedback or not. 

But Jaskier doesn’t seem to mind, reaching for his lute before pausing. “Do you mind if I play?”

Strangely, it rather _hurts_ to imagine that someone had made Jaskier think listening to him playing the lute would be annoying. 

“As long it’s not more about this fishmonger,” Eskel ends up saying, hoping that he doesn’t offend his new favourite bard.

He doesn’t.

Jaskier grins at him as if he’d just showered him in coin and does some complicated manoeuvre in which he very impressively removes his lute from its case without taking the strap off his shoulder.

Eskel whistles. “Nice lute you have there.” 

“She’s a beauty,” Jaskier agrees, “and I am, of course, ever grateful to Filavandrel.” 

It’s as if he doesn’t even realise how _casual_ he’s being about having been bestowed a gift by the leader of the elves. But Eskel chooses not to point that out because everyone knows that’s a story from Posoda and he doesn’t want Jaskier to run away again.

So he just says, “Prove it.” 

Jaskier gasps in mock horror. “You dare question the beauty of my lute and the skills of my craft? I’ll show you _proof_!”

His proof involves singing practically non-stop for the next three hours. 

Eskel has never heard so many metaphors in his life and although they all merge together in his head, he does appreciate the way they fill the silence - even Scorpion had sometimes changed her pace to match Jaskier’s music.

But when Jaskier stumbles over a chord and slows down, Eskel stops, jumping down from Scorpion. “Lunch break?”

Jaskier blinks, frowning. “A break? Why?”

“Because you’re tired?” Eskel replies, already leading Scorpion into the nearest clearing off the main path. 

“I am?” Jaskier asks as he follows Eskel.

Eskel turns to him and nods slowly. “You’ve been playing for hours and I might not have a coin to toss at you but give me ten minutes and I’ll find us a rabbit.” 

“What?”

Although he’d been about to leave to find said rabbit, he turns back to Jaskier as the scent of confusion increases to an almost unbearable amount. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier’s fingers fiddle with the lute strings as he shakes his head. “You’re stopping… because _I’m_ tired?”

Oh. 

Eskel makes a mental note to punch Geralt _twice_ when they meet again.

“No. _We’re_ stopping because I don’t want you to collapse somewhere,” he corrects, leaving out the part where he feels bad for being atop a horse when he’s better built for walking. 

Jaskier scoffs. “I have never been so undignified as to collapse anywhere! Well, okay, maybe a _few_ times… But I’m really not that tired, we don’t have to-”

“Jaskier,” Eskel interrupts, “I _want_ to. Okay?”

A small pause and soft smile later, Jaskier nods. “Okay.”

Eskel shakes his head, leaving the bard to go find them lunch, which takes him just a little over his prediction of ten minutes because he’s still busy thinking about how idiotic his brother seems to have been. 

He doesn’t expect to find Jaskier kindling a small fire by the time he gets back.

“Oh,” escapes him before he can stop it.

Unfortunately, Jaskier hadn’t seen or heard him coming and jumps so sharply he wobbles where he’s perched and almost falls right into the flames. “Sweet _Meletite-”_

“I’m sorry!” Eskel exclaims, dropping the rabbit as he steadies Jaskier and nudges him away from the possibility of getting burned.

Jaskier exhales slowly. “It’s fine, I just- You scared me, that’s all. I forgot how quiet witchers can be.” 

“I’ll step on a twig next time,” Eskel promises, not even sure if he’s being serious or not. 

Either way, it’s a downright _relief_ when Jaskier laughs.

And it’s not long before they’re done with cooking and eating, both of them falling back into a comfortable silence as the time passes and their stomachs are filled, Eskel then putting out the fire.

“Do you still want to walk?” he asks as Jaskier picks up his lute case. 

Jaskier chuckles as if he’s said something stupid. “What other option do I have, darling? It’s not like I’m about to grow wings, is it?”

And abruptly, Eskel realises he needs to punch Geralt _thrice._

With a small sigh, he gestures to Scorpion. “You could ride with me?”

Jaskier blinks.

He glances between Eskel and Scorpion with an oddly intense frown before opening his mouth only to close it again, his fingers starting to fidget again.

“She’s a strong horse and she’s more than capable of carrying two riders,” he adds before letting Jaskier take as long as he needs to consider the offer, which ends up being a very, _very_ long two and a half minutes.

“I’d like that,” Jaskier admits eventually, a hesitant smile on his face.

“As would I,” Eskel says a little too quickly for his own liking; he’s known the bard for less than a full day and he’s already bordering on admitting he has what humans like to call _feelings._

“Can I strap my lute next to your bags?” Jaskier asks, pulling Eskel out of his musings.

He nods quickly. “Yes, of course. Wouldn’t be very practical to have you holding onto it.” 

“Oh, you are such a darling,” Jaskier declares as the two of them mount Scorpion, Eskel in front. 

He doesn’t know how to reply to that so he just starts moving, slightly surprised when he doesn’t feel Jaskier’s arms around him - it hadn’t seemed likely that Jaskier would be good at holding himself upright if he’d never ridden Roach. 

But Jaskier holds on just fine, staying quiet and all but invisible until the road forks into two. 

“Go left,” Jaskier blurts before Eskel can even think about choosing.

“Why?”

He feels Jaskier shift awkwardly. “I mean, you can go right if you have a contract that way but you’ll have to drop me off here because I c _annot_ go that away.” 

“What?”

Eskel is dimly aware that monosyllabic questions are not the best form of conversation but Jaskier just shrugs, seemingly unbothered by his lack of eloquence. 

“I might have made a few enemies there? Just a few, mind you, most of them _loved_ my performances. But it just so happens that the few who didn’t like it have _very_ sharp swords that I really don’t want to meet again…”

Eskel laughs. 

He can’t help it.

He’s still laughing as he guides Scorpion to take the path on the left and he’s still laughing when Jaskier pointedly nudges him. “Exactly _what_ are you finding so amusing?”

“You’re quite the mystery, bardling,” he chuckles.

Jaskier just hums in acknowledgement, but that seems to give him some kind of idea and he then starts humming tunes that Eskel can _feel_ just as well as he can hear, even if he doesn’t recognise them in the slightest.

As they continue travelling, Eskel wonders how Jaskier’s lungs and vocal chords can possibly function so well for such long periods of time. 

“ _Bardling_?” 

Eskel is most definitely _not_ startled by Jaskier finally talking rather than humming. He coughs to cover up his surprise and shrugs, knowing the bard can see him do so. “I just…” 

“I’ll have you know that I am one of the _most_ esteemed bards in the continent and most definitely not new to my profession.”

A little intimidated by the serious edge to Jaskier’s voice, Eskel doesn’t offer up a reply, hoping once again that he hasn’t seriously insulted his favourite bard. He hadn’t even paid the term much attention if he’s honest, it’d just slipped out. 

“But if this is one of those witcher things where you mean to express affection without wanting to admit you’re capable of it, well, I can appreciate that,” he continues, switching between threatening and compassionate as easily as Eskel switches between steel and silver.

“Witchers don’t feel,” Eskel offers. 

Jaskier scoffs. “Says the witcher who just used a term of endearment.” 

“I did _what_?” Eskel asks, seriously regretting the life choices that led him here.

“Well, maybe not quite, but it was close enough…” Jaskier trails off and without warning, the air around them is tainted with worry. 

Eskel shakes his head, trying to physically clear it away. “I know you’re a professional,” he says slowly, wishing he knew how to convey that he doesn’t want Jaskier to be sad or worried. 

Somehow, that seems to work and the tension around Jaskier dissolves as he laughs, curling his arms around Eskel and squeezing ever so gently. “Thank you, Eskel.”

He doesn’t understand how Jaskier’s touch can be so _warm_ when witchers are biologically warmer than most species but he isn’t going to complain. After all, it means Jaskier isn’t afraid of him and that’s a marvel in itself. 

“You’re welcome, bardling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm having fun with these two !! i know this is a little chaotic and possibly ooc but i hoped you liked it anyway <3
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment?


	4. i'll stand there so brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's taken me a while to update but the sun decided to make life too warm for me to function... yay summer (!)  
> anyway, here's whatever this is ^.^

They reach the next town a few hours before nightfall.

Jaskier perks up as soon as they see an inn, all but jumping to the ground and almost toppling over entirely in his haste. He manages to carefully take down his lute before Eskel has even brought Scorpion to a stop.

“I’ll get us a room!” he declares before promptly freezing on the spot, looking up at Eskel as if waiting for permission.

Eskel sighs inwardly but smiles as softly as he can make himself. “Sounds good.”

It’s obvious Jaskier was wondering if Eskel would even  _ want _ to share a room with him and somehow, that thought stings more than most injuries he’s faced on the path. Because of course he does, there’s  _ no _ reason for him not to. 

He’s glad it’s almost dark because it means the stableboy doesn’t have a chance to be scared off by his scars, simply promising to ensure Scorpion is taken care of properly.

“Go find a corner, darling,” Jaskier whispers to him as soon as he enters the inn, gently pushing him towards one of the walls.

Before he can even  _ think  _ to ask if there’s a room available, Jaskier has started performing, his voice carrying perfectly across the rather large room and causing most people to at least turn to look at him, if not start smiling or singing along. 

Eskel doesn’t recognise the song but it seems plenty of people do because there are soon enough drinks going round for one of the barmaids to place on in front of him with a smile. “Free of charge, as promised.”

“Promised?” Eskel echoes, frowning.

She frowns back for a split second before nodding her head at Jaskier, who’s currently moving around the room to take requests. “You’re with  _ him _ , right?”

Eskel nods.

“Well then, as we promised him: food and drink with no charge if he can liven the place up.”

She disappears to serve someone else before Eskel can thank her so he just accepts the ale and sits back, tracking Jaskier as he switches songs after stopping by two young women who look like they’re on the verge of tears.

They’re laughing by the time the song - something about a princess slaying the beast instead of being rescued from it - has finished, as much to Jaskier’s credit as it is to Eskel’s amazement.

“Play the one about coins!” someone shouts.

“Yeah, let’s hear about the devil!” 

“Go  _ on _ , bard!”

Eskel bristles as Jaskier pauses, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin that had barely healed from before; apparently, it’s some kind of nervous habit of his.

For a moment, Eskel thinks Jaskier will refuse. But then Jaskier exhales slowly and grins. “Why, of course! A great choice to end the evening!” 

His ale - both the first and second mugs - long since finished, Eskel focuses entirely on Jaskier.

“ _ When a humble bard _ …”

Focuses on the way he’s the perfect picture of professional.

Focuses on how his fingers play the right tune but his heart so clearly isn’t in it, not that anyone seems to pick up on that as they laugh or sing along, a few of them even tossing coins Jaskier’s way as he passes them.

Focuses on how there's something so brave in Jaskier singing about someone who'd hurt him so deeply. And not only that, but he's doing it to support witchers despite everything - it seems only _logical_ to be impressed.

“ _ A friend of humanity… _ ” Jaskier finishes, bowing ceremoniously as he grabs his lute case from he’d propped it up to keep it safe.

Moments later, he rather  _ unceremoniously _ collapses into the seat opposite Eskel.

“You okay there, bardling?” Eskel asks softly, once he’s sure there are no prying eyes left. 

Jaskier nods, but the way he lets his head fall onto the table between them says otherwise. 

He stays in that position until two plates of food are placed on their table, at which point he sits up straight and positively  _ beams _ at the woman who’d brought them. “Our most sincere gratitude for keeping your promise.”

She laughs, glancing between the two of them. “The gratitude is mutual.”

Eskel smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“Is that basil?” Jaskier asks incredulously, surprising both Eskel and the woman, who nods slowly, as if expecting a complaint.

But Jaskier only grins cheekily. “I shall have to write a ballad in my gratitude to your hospitality and whoever is in charge of your skilled kitchens.”

The woman blushes before grabbing Eskel’s empty mug, muttering something about it being their pleasure before leaving them to their food. And as soon as she’s gone, Jaskier lets his head fall back onto the table.

“Jaskier?” Eskel asks, briefly worrying if there’s a hidden injury he should know about.

Jaskier groans softly but sits back up again with a small and oddly insincere smirk. “I believe that’s what most people call me, yes.” 

This time, Eskel can tell  _ exactly _ how much Jaskier is affected by having to relive Posada, even if he doesn’t always show it. But he doesn’t want to address it, knowing that it might mean Jaskier shuts himself off again. Or worse, decides not to travel with him after all.

Instead, he gestures to their plates. “Aren’t you going to try the basil?”

Jaskier blinks slowly before laughing, the shadows in his expression halfway replaced with amusement. “Only if we  _ both _ do, darling,” he agrees.

And so they do.

It seems neither of them are used to taking their time, though, because the inn is still relatively buzzing by the time they’ve both finished their very satisfying meals. 

“There’s someone with a siren problem that wants to meet you tomorrow,” Jaskier tells him as they make their way upstairs.

“What?” Eskel tilts his head to the right, confused.

Jaskier is immediately surrounded by waves of panic. “Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to assume you’d want to take the contract or anything. I was just- I mean,  _ she’s _ the one that came to me and I thought you- But we can just, uh, decline if you already had plans or-”

“It’s okay, Jaskier, I’m not mad,” Eskel interrupts, placing a hand on Jaskier’s arm.

He doesn’t know what he’d expected but he hadn’t predicted that Jaskier would  _ melt _ the same way his panic does, letting out a soft sigh as he leans into the touch.

“Which room is ours?” Eskel asks, not really wanting to continue this conversation, or any other one for that matter, where they could be overhead. 

Jaskier instantly snaps out of his guilty daze and leads them to the room he’d gotten them, a smaller one with only a bed and a window. But it’s still better than nothing at such late notice and Eskel is grateful for it.

“Did she tell you it was a siren?” Eskel asks eventually, not liking the uneasy silence between them.

Jaskier looks almost startled to be addressed but then shakes his head. “Not exactly, but there aren’t exactly a lot of creatures that specialise in luring handsome men away with songs in the middle of the night, are there?”

Taking a risk, Eskel smirks. “You would know better than I, bardling.”

“What? I wouldn’t know more than you witchers even if-  _ hey _ !” Jaskier’s confusion transforms into an affronted pout as he folds his arms. “I do not  _ lure _ anyone anywhere. It’s hardly  _ my _ fault if they offer me their company, is it?”

Eskel is just glad Jaskier hadn’t taken offence. He’s also pretty surprised that his idea of a joke had matched someone else’s idea of a joke but he’s aware it might just be Jaskier and his rather  _ unique _ personality. 

“If you say so,” Eskel settles for.

Jaskier grumbles and throws his doublet at Eskel, who barely manages to catch it despite his enhanced reflexes.

But as soon as he does, Jaskier’s eyes widen and he steps closer to Eskel. “Wait no, don’t crumple it!”

“ _ You’re _ the one who threw it,” Eskel points out, bemused. 

Jaskier pouts again, and Eskel swears that no other man would be capable of looking so childish in such a surprisingly dignified way. 

But he throws it back anyway. Or rather,  _ hands _ it back, since Jaskier is close enough to do so. He’s also close enough for Eskel to feel the surprised relief that radiates from him as he carefully folds the doublet and places it atop his lute case.

It hadn’t struck Eskel until now that Jaskier doesn’t have any other belongings with him. But now he feels self-conscious at having two bags worth of possessions where Jaskier only has a lute, even though he knows that he  _ needs _ the potions and the spare clothes and the extra room for rations.

And Jaskier must have pulled the shirt he’d given to Eskel from  _ somewhere _ , right? Eskel figures he’d stashed his belongings somewhere before they’d set off and resolves to ask him about them later.

“Are you going to keep your armour on all night?” Jaskier asks after a minute or so of Eskel being rooted in the same spot. 

Truth be told, he was just wondering whether they’d share the bed again. 

“You know, I’ve heard that sleeping is  _ far _ more comfortable when you’re not covered in spikes,” Jaskier continues, smirking again. 

Eskel makes a face at that but Jaskier only takes it as an invitation, helping him out of his armour before pulling him to the bed and flopping down onto it, raising an eyebrow up at him. “Care to join me?”

“No,” Eskel replies just for the sake of it, “move over.”

Jaskier laughs before doing exactly that, folding his arms under his head as he shifts his gaze to the ceiling and Eskel settles besides him.

“You don’t mind, do you? That I arranged a potential contract on your behalf?” Jaskier asks softly, still staring at the ceiling. 

Eskel shakes his head, wondering how Jaskier doesn’t know that it makes life so much  _ easier _ to have a middle man in the equation. But then he remembers that _Geralt_ is probably responsible for Jaskier not knowing how valuable his social skills are.

Honestly, he’s never wanted to hit someone so badly. 

“Of course not,” Eskel replies, wishing he could explain better but still not quite used to the whole talking-for-so-long thing. 

Jaskier smiles regardless and turns so he’s facing Eskel, already curling closer to him. “And you won’t leave before I wake up?”

Eskel suspects Jaskier is either a little more tired or a little more drunk than he’d intended to be so he just humours him and shakes his head. “No, I won’t. I’ll be here,” he promises.

Almost like a child, Jaskier nods, shuffling even closer. “Thank you, Eskel.” 

The warmth that spreads through Eskel is most likely due to Jaskier’s presence rather than his words because why would someone using his  _ name _ be powerful enough to change his body temperature?

Jaskier is filled with so much trust, Eskel notes, that he falls asleep within a few minutes. And it amazes him as much as it  _ saddens _ him for he can’t imagine why Geralt would give up someone so awfully kind at heart. 

But he doesn’t want to think of his brother’s idiocy unless he absolutely has to, which he currently doesn’t, so he just wraps an arm around Jaskier and closes his eyes.

It’s definitely strange to have someone choose to be as close to him as possible, especially when they’re both at their most vulnerable, but he can’t deny the smile on his face that only the darkness will ever see. 

He also can’t deny one of the best nights of sleep he’s ever had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like every time i write them, they're more ooc ? sorry about that...
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment? x


	5. it's hard to get to know me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seems i can't decide if we want fluff or angst in this fic so we're gonna get a strange mix of both ;)

Eskel opens his eyes to the sight of messy brown hair. 

He blinks once, twice,  _ thrice _ just to check he’s not imagining things. And for the record, he’s not, it’s just that Jaskier seems to be using him as a pillow, sleeping almost sideways on the bed. 

It doesn’t look very comfortable but he doesn’t know enough about Jaskier to argue yet so he just gently manoeuvres himself out of the bed and makes to go put his armour on. Only for his attention to be drawn back to Jaskier when he lets out a sleepy groan and curls up on himself.

It’s  _ far _ more adorable than it has any right to be.

“Geralt?” Jaskier mumbles, yawning. 

“Uh, no,” Eskel replies, not exactly sure what he’s meant to do when Jaskier looks so confused, and when there’s suddenly a strange  _ stinging _ in his heart.

Before he can say anything more, Jaskier shoots upright, his eyes wide and his gaze frantically searching the room until he sees Eskel, at which point the sharp scent of fear fades into a soft relief. 

The stinging in his heart fades as he realises Jaskier is somehow  _ comforted _ by his very presence. People seeing Eskel usually results in fear or uneasiness so he doesn’t understand what it is about him that could even  _ possibly _ be soothing Jaskier’s fear. But he doesn’t know how to ask.

“You’re not him,” Jaskier sighs, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

Eskel clears his throat awkwardly. “No.”

There’s a very small silence before Jaskier looks up with a strained attempt at a smile. “You’re not, of  _ course _ you’re not- I’m  _ so _ sorry, I… I was- I don’t know, really. He- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to and it was just- i only- you- please don’t leave?”

Jaskier’s eyes water ever so slightly and although Eskel doesn’t know why, he finds himself moving to sit beside him immediately. “I’m not leaving. I promised not to, remember?”

There are arms around Eskel’s neck even as he finishes talking and it takes an awful lot of energy not to simply throw Jaskier off. Instead, he curls one of his own arms around Jaskier and waits until he stops panicking and stumbling over his words. 

“It’s okay, bardling,” Eskel promises as Jaskier exhales slowly, again and again and again.

And it  _ is _ okay because of course Jaskier would think he might be waking up next to someone he’s woken up next to for over two decades. Not that Eskel has ever been in a similar position but he’s pretty sure he would do something similar so he can’t exactly fault the bard.

“I’m so sorry,” Jaskier mumbles eventually.

Eskel makes a mental note not to try and sneak out of bed in future. “You don’t have to be.” 

Jaskier pulls away and brushes away his unshed tears before offering Eskel a much stronger smile than before. “Thank you for not leaving,” he says, even though Eskel had, more or less, attempted to do exactly that.

“And I’m sorry for waking you,” Eskel replies slowly. 

But Jaskier shakes his head at that, elbowing him. “You didn’t wake me. Well, I suppose you sort of  _ did _ but it’s not exactly early so I can’t blame you. And, uh, you have that siren problem to deal with,” he rambles, springing to his feet. 

Bemused, Eskel stays exactly where he is as Jaskier slips his doublet on and turns to him with his hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised. “Well? Don’t witchers like to eat breakfast with their armour on just in case someone dares to steal their food?”

“What? That is not why we keep our armour on!” Eskel protests, mildly offended. 

He lets Jaskier continue to talk at somewhere that seems close to the speed of sound itself as the two of them make their way downstairs. 

It’s not long before they’re given food and Eskel hides his laugh as the woman who serves them attempts to flirt with Jaskier. He’s sure that if Jaskier weren’t still trying to cover up his previous panicking, she might even have been successful.

“This is really nicely salted,” Jaskier comments once she’s gone.

“Why didn’t you tell  _ her _ that?” Eskel asks, trying his best not to laugh. 

Jaskier just blinks. “Who?”

“The woman who so clearly wanted your attention.” 

As he follows Eskel’s gaze, Jaskier’s face flushes red and he shrugs almost defensively. “I didn’t really notice her,” he admits, and Eskel is reminded that Jaskier can probably interact with people the same way he breathes, which is to say he can do so without even thinking about it. 

Eskel is torn between being impressed, concerned, amused, and slightly jealous; it seems Jaskier will always remain something of a mystery to him. 

“I’ll make it up to her later,” Jaskier mumbles, sounding more than a little remorseful.

Shaking his head, Eskel just carries on eating, neither of them saying much until a very visibly distressed woman bursts in and all but falls onto Jaskier, breathing heavily.

Jaskier doesn’t miss a beat before putting an arm around her. “What’s wrong?” he asks gently, seemingly unbothered that she’d interrupted his meal. 

“The s- siren I told you about…” she manages. 

“Who was it this time?” Jaskier asks even as he shares a look with Eskel, who manages to get all his wits about him and pay a little more attention instead of musing.

“My brother, my  _ poor _ brother,” the woman sobs.

As Jaskier murmurs comforting nothings to her, Eskel leans forwards, waiting until she’s a little less distraught before asking, “What’s your name?”

Upon hearing him, the woman looks up and sniffles twice before taking a deep breath. “Lillia.”

“Well, Lillia, I promise to try and help your brother,” he says, and he means it. Even if they’re all well aware her brother probably isn’t coming back.

Jaskier beams. “And this is my- the darling witcher I was telling you about yesterday.”

Eskel doesn’t miss the slip of tongue and briefly wonders how exactly Jaskier had introduced him to Lillia. But he doesn’t get to wonder for very long because she nods and starts explaining how her brother and his friends had all gone missing near the river.

Once she’s done, Jaskier hands her a napkin. “You know we can’t promise you we’ll return your brother but I  _ can _ promise you Eskel won’t let the same thing happen to your husband.”

“Try to stay indoors, okay?” Eskel suggests.

She nods and thanks them profusely before leaving to presumably go and tell her husband the good news. Eskel raises an eyebrow at Jaskier when she’s out of earshot. “You didn’t ask her name yesterday?”

Jaskier huffs. “Excuse me for having a little more on my mind than learning the names of everyone in the room during a performance.”

Eskel laughs, standing up. “Well, we should probably go prepare then.”

Although Jaskier stands to follow him, he frowns. “Prepare?”

They make their way back to their room before Eskel replies. “You can’t just attempt to talk to a siren without being prepared.” 

Jaskier almost drops the lute he’s just picked up as he turns to Eskel, frowning yet again. “Why would  _ I _ need to talk to a siren?”

Oh.

Of course.

Eskel internally makes a note to throw something that’s at least slightly heavy right at Geralt’s face as he offers Jaskier a smile. “Do you want to stay here or do you want to come with me to find this siren?”

The way Jaskier’s jaw drops is nothing short of comical. 

“You mean I don’t need to stay behind?” he asks hopefully. 

Eskel shakes his head, then realises that might be confusing to anyone outside of his own head. “No, you don’t. As long as you run exactly when I tell you to.” 

With a bright grin, Jaskier nods enthusiastically. “I promise I will. So when are we leaving?”

“Sirens are usually strongest at night so surprising one during the day seems like our best chance,” Eskel replies as he checks over his bags, making sure he has enough of everything just in case their encounter goes wrong somehow. 

“So… now?” Jaskier asks with all the glee of a toddler. 

“Do you have something you can cover your eyes or your ears with if necessary?” Eskel asks, “A second doublet at the very least?”

Although he knows that a siren’s enchantment can rarely be stopped by anything less than magic, he’d definitely feel a little better if he knew Jaskier had some kind of defence, although he’s still working on trying to figure out  _ why _ he so strongly wishes for the bard to stay safe.

Jaskier shakes his head. “I would rather risk being devoured than sacrifice any of my doublets, thank you very much.” 

Eskel sighs. “In that case, you can stay with Scorpion while I find the siren.”

“Obviously,” Jaskier replies, having placed his lute in its case and slung that over his shoulder while they were talking. “Are you ready?”

_ He _ should be the one asking that, Eskel thinks, but chooses only to nod, grabbing the bag he needs and letting Jaskier lead the way back downstairs, where he stops to whisper something to a barmaid. She nods solemnly but says nothing and disappears before Eskel can figure out what Jaskier was doing.

“Why are you bringing your lute?” Eskel asks.

Jaskier looks ever so slightly outraged. “I’m not just going to leave her behind. And what if I get stuck by inspiration only to find I don’t have her with me? What  _ then _ ?” 

Scorpion headbutts Eskel before he can think of a reply but Jaskier just grins and pulls out another apple from literally nowhere - Eskel’s beginning to think he has magical pockets sewn into his clothing. 

He offers the apple up to Eskel, who lifts his hands above his head and nods his head to Scorpion. Just as Jaskier opens his mouth to apologise - which Eskel can tell he’s about to do because he’s shuffling his feet again - Scorpion bites the apple and makes the choice for them. 

“Woah there,” Jaskier breathes, lifting his other hand to stroke her.

Eskel almost forgets what he’s doing altogether as he watches the two of them; there’s no explanation for the rush of warmth that surges through him but gods is he glad Scorpion approves of Jaskier. 

“Well, let’s go then!” Jaskier calls over his shoulder as he starts walking, at which point Eskel realises he’d spent too long in his thoughts yet  _ again _ , something that seems to be quickly becoming a habit the longer he spends with Jaskier.

He takes Scorpion’s reins and guides her out of the stables, then pointedly clears his throat. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier hums, turning on his heel only to frown when he sees Eskel walking. “What are you doing? Is she injured?”

Eskel’s eyebrows furrow as he glances between Scorpion and Jaskier. “No, she’s fine. What are  _ you _ doing?”

“Did you just lose a marble, darling? We’re going to find Lillia’s siren? Well, it wouldn’t be her siren exactly, but it’s her problem and the problem just so happens to be a siren so it’s her siren problem and so-”

“Jaskier. I meant, why are you walking?”

The look of confusion on Jaskier’s face makes Eskel want to both laugh and punch Geralt yet another time. Since neither of those things are likely to help the situation, he foregoes both of them, instead gesturing to the saddle. “Don’t you want to ride with me?”

“But this is a contract,” Jaskier argues.

Eskel nods. “Yes, which is why I’d prefer you to be as close as possible.”

It makes perfect sense to Eskel but Jaskier worries his lip for the duration of a short uneasy silence before shaking his head and folding his arms in front of him. “I can walk fast, I- I won’t slow you down, if that’s what you mean. You don’t have to…” 

Once Eskel is sure Jaskier isn’t going to continue, he steps forward and places a hand on Jaskier’s arm, offering him a smile. “When I said you could ride with me, it wasn’t just a one-time offer.”

“ _ Oh _ .” 

Jaskier’s face goes through a rapid series of emotions that Eskel can’t quite place before he beams and loops his arms around Eskel’s neck, waves of happiness radiating from him as he whispers, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, bardling,” Eskel replies, focusing on getting them both secure on Scorpion instead of how surprisingly nice it feels to hug someone, to have someone  _ want _ to hug him.

Like last time, Jaskier holds on to the saddle itself rather than Eskel, which is perfectly fine for now because it’s not particularly rough terrain and he figures that if the bard is more comfortable that way, there’s no reason to complain. 

“Have you come across many sirens before?” Jaskier asks once they get moving.

It takes Eskel a minute to try and remember. “A few.”

Jaskier shifts a little. “Would you be so kind as to tell me about them? I’ve only seen one and I don’t remember enough about her for a full song.” 

Eskel laughs lightly. “Sure. I bet you haven’t heard much about their wings.”

Behind him, Jaskier gasps so dramatically that Eskel fleetingly wonders if he’s falling off. But then he blurts, “They have  _ wings _ ? Are you quite serious? I cannot  _ believe _ I’ve missed out on such a  _ magnificent _ piece of information!”

“I’m very serious,” Eskel promises.

And as if they’ve swapped roles, Eskel finds himself narrating something of a story about the last siren he’d come across while Jaskier stays mostly quiet, only asking the occasional question every so often and acting as a rather perfect audience. 

He’s almost sorry he has to stop when they finally get to the river but he doesn’t want to suffer through the irony of falling prey to a siren whilst telling a tale about the very same creature.

“This is as close as you get,” he tells Jaskier as he swings himself off Scorpion.

Jaskier nods solemnly. “I won’t go anywhere, I give you my word.” 

Eskel nods, then looks to Scorpion. “Make sure he doesn’t run off,” he says, smirking when he hears Jaskier splutter indignantly.

It feels almost wrong to leave Jaskier but he trusts his horse with his life and he’d really rather not take either of them any closer to a lone siren than they need to be, especially since a siren without a group is either an outcast or a narcissist. 

“Eskel?” 

He turns to see Jaskier biting his lip. After a moment, the bard smiles softly. “Be careful.” 

“I give you my word,” Eskel replies, returning his smile.

When Jaskier nods, he continues towards the river, not bothering to try and cover up the smile that refuses to leave his face because there’s nobody around to see it. His muscles aren’t used to smiling so much and he can almost hear their confusion, but he’s not opposed to changing that. 

Or rather, he’s not opposed to letting  _ Jaskier _ change that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen, i know Eskel is a fierce and skilled witcher but i just wanted to see him lowkey melt when faced with the wholesome chaos that is Jaskier,,,
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment? x


	6. i just can't imagine losing you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no jaskel but we're back with the siren problem and a routine dose of angst :p

Do sirens sleep?

Eskel should know the answer to that.

Unfortunately, he can’t seem to remember what it is as he approaches the shallow end of the rather pitifully overgrown lake they’d been directed to. His whole plan hinges on the siren being caught unawares but it’ll be no use if she’s alert and ready for him. 

“Witcher,” someone hisses.

_ Great _ .

“Eskel, at your service,” he replies, one hand reaching for his sword.

Before he can unsheath it, a head appears in the water, followed by rivers of hair and then shoulders. The siren smiles at him, her teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Why have you wandered into my home?”

“This place cannot be your  _ home _ ,” Eskel argues, “especially not if you’re alone.” 

She sighs and glides forwards, rising until she’s entirely visible waist-above. She pauses before saying anything, clearly waiting to see how he’ll react, but when he makes no move, she folds her arms in front of her.

“I haven’t done anything to warrant a witcher’s arrival.”

Eskel chuckles. “What, luring several men to their deaths means nothing to you?”

She smirks. “No.”

He doesn't know why he bothered asking to be honest.

“They deserved it. They were barely more than weeds, blights,  _ monsters _ wearing human skin,” the siren continues with a startling amount of malice in her voice. 

Stepping back, Eskel shakes his head. “You’re awfully certain about that.” 

She hisses at him, the bright blue of her eyes fading into an icy grey as her fangs flicker into view. “They captured my friend. Do they not also deserve death in return?” 

Her voice takes a melodic turn and Eskel mentally prepares himself to cast Igni if she continues. He’s glad he’d told Jaskier to stay back because a lone siren out for revenge is nothing he wants a bard to get involved in. 

Well, he couldn’t care less what most bards get themselves involved in, but Jaskier is different. Because with Jaskier, it would be  _ Eskel’s _ fault if anything were to happen. And he really doesn’t like the idea of that.

“Have you satisfied your desire for revenge or does this need to get messy?” Eskel asks eventually.

She hisses at him again, and lunges.

He meets her claws with fire and she reels back, shrieking. Somehow, even that sounds oddly pleasant to his ears and he has to physically shake his head to remove that thought from his mind.

But then she’s right in front of him and he doesn't have time for another round of Igni so he makes do with a sword and this time, she can’t retreat again. She’s stuck, impaled on silver, her hands viciously reaching towards his face. 

He steps back instinctively because the last thing he needs is yet  _ another _ facial scar. 

“You will… pay for this,” she hisses at him, her hands now settling around his sword, pain etched into her expression. 

Eskel shakes his head. “It’s not my fault you attacked.”

She smirks at him, throws her head back, and  _ laughs _ \- a horrible wet sound accompanied by blood trickling over her lips - and a cold weight abruptly settles in his stomach; something’s wrong, he can feel it.

“What is it? What have you done?” Eskel demands, twisting the handle of the sword ever so slightly, feeling no remorse upon hearing her screech in pain. 

Even if he had felt any, it would have vanished rapidly because she resumes laughing, one of her claws gently, weakly tracing his scars. He lets it happen this time only because he needs to know what she means and there’s no way she could have full power over him anymore.

“Bet… you di’n’t see… my friend,” she manages, blood staining her fangs as she grins, whimpers, stills. 

No.

No, she can’t have a friend because Lillia had said there was only one siren but if there  _ are _ two, that means he’s far less prepared than he should be and-

_ Jaskier _ .

Almost as soon as he thinks of him, Eskel can smell him. Can smell his  _ fear. _

And Eskel  _ runs. _

He sheaths his sword as he starts moving, paying no attention to the way the siren’s lifeless body slumps into the water and disappears. All he can think about is Jaskier, Jaskier being scared, Jaskier falling prey to Eskel’s own carelessness.

“Jaskier!” he calls as he reaches where they’d parted.

There’s no sign of him. 

And the scent of his fear is rapidly fading. Eskel curses loudly, making his way over to Scorpion. She stops panicking as he nears but doesn’t let him get close, pushing him to one side. 

“Stop it, what are you-?” Eskel cut himself off as he glances to the left where she hasn’t been mindlessly panicking but cleverly  _ directing  _ him.

“You’re the best,” he mutters sincerely, and then he’s off again. He does spare a moment to thank the gods that Jaskier had charmed his horse and vica versa though. 

He can’t smell Jaskier at all anymore but he figures the other siren has something to do with that so he continues, ignoring the way his boots fill with water as he ends up travelling further and further into the forest, into the lake. 

“Jaskier?” he calls again, not exactly expecting a reply.

But he gets one. 

It’s just not one that he likes.

“So that’s his name?” a voice eerily similar to the siren from before asks. 

Eskel brings himself to a halt, automatically glaring at the siren in front of him and her piercing green eyes. But those aren’t the ones he’s worried about, no, he’s more concerned about the other pair of familiar blue eyes that look far too hazy for comfort. 

“Let him go,” Eskel hears himself growl.

Jaskier stirs at the sound of his voice, but the siren hums something that has his features relaxing until he slumps down again, propped up against her chest, his head lolling onto her shoulder. 

She has one hand curled around his neck, the other playing gently with his hair in a way that could be adorable in any other setting. As it is, Eskel is  _ keenly  _ aware of the way her claws could slit his throat at any moment. 

“Your sword is practically  _ dripping _ with the blood of my sister and you expect me to let your pretty little friend go?” the siren hisses, and Eskel can’t deny that she has a point. 

It still doesn’t mean he’s happy to let her kill Jaskier. 

He’s tempted to just use Igni and get everything over and done with but there’s no way to ensure Jaskier won’t burn along with her and there’s absolutely no way he’s taking such a foolish risk. 

Instead, he thinks of how Jaskier always finds a way to simply  _ talk _ them out of their potentially dangerous situations and decides to do the same, hoping that this siren isn’t quite as impulsive as her sister.

“The bard has nothing to do with this.” Eskel tries his best not to growl again but he’s not sure he’s all that successful. 

The siren scoffs, running her claws through Jaskier’s hair as his eyelids flutter. “You brought him into this by killing my sister.” 

“ _ She _ attacked  _ me _ ,” Eskel points out. 

Green eyes narrow as the siren tightens her grip on Jaskier, who promptly whimpers, the soft sound sending spikes of panic into Eskel’s heart. He briefly wishes the books had been right about witchers not being able to  _ feel  _ as such. 

“I’m s’rry.”

Both Eskel and the siren turn towards Jaskier, who, for some reason or the other, has decided that the first thing he should do upon achieving semi-coherence is  _ apologise. _

“What?” the siren asks, lifting and tilting his head towards her. Only then does Eskel realise that Jaskier is quite literally being held up by her and were she to let go, he would simply sink into the water - It’s not a pleasant realisation.

“I’m s’rry ‘bout your sis’r,” Jaskier murmurs, blinking slowly. 

Eskel frowns, stepping a little closer. “I don’t know why  _ he’s _ sorry but I definitely am. I tried not to hurt her.” 

The green-eyed siren snarls at him but makes no move to start singing or hurt Jaskier, instead glancing between the two of them, confused. “Why does he care about my sister?” she asks Eskel. 

Jaskier beats him to replying. “She w’s ups’t ‘bout your fr’nd. Under… stan’ble.” 

Eskel winces at the way Jaskier is having to stumble through his words but he can’t help the relief that floods his veins due to hearing his voice at all. 

The siren shakes her head. “We found our revenge in the end.”

Somehow, Jaskier manages to shiver and smile at the same time. Eskel clears his throat to save Jaskier from the trouble of articulation, especially since the cold water can’t be helping him. “We’re glad to hear it, truly.”

“Is what you tell every siren before you kill them?” she hisses, pulling Jaskier backwards and making his eyes widen as he finally lifts his hands to grab the arm now rather snugly resting around his neck. 

“Let him go and I won’t even touch you,” Eskel promises. 

Jaskier nods slowly, now far more alert. “He’s r- really kind, I… I promise.”

The siren glances strangely between them for a moment, before nodding briskly. “Fine. But only if I get to kill the one more who got away.”

Her voice becomes borderline singing and Jaskier winces at her last few words so Eskel simply nods in return. “Just one. Now let him  _ go _ .” 

For a moment, he sees something like a smile in her eyes. But then she smirks slyly and glides a little further away from Eskel, deeper into the lake. “Interesting choice of words, witcher.”

She lets go.

And Jaskier gasps.

Only to sink like a stone. 

Eskel curses inwardly as he shrugs off his swords and dives into the lake without a second thought, the sight of Jaskier’s frightened blue eyes having distracted him from the siren siblings altogether. 

He definitely doesn’t panic when he can’t immediately find Jaskier and he definitely doesn’t swim like a fish being frantically reeled in as he searches for him.

But he can’t find him and he’d  _ never _ forgive himself if he let Jaskier drown on the first contract they accepted together or if it turns out he’d been outsmarted by a pair of sirens or if he never gets to see Jaskier smile again because of his own stupidity and-

There.

Jaskier’s hand.

Eskel grabs onto him and pulls, turning sharply and guiding them both above the water, towards the edge of the lake, away from the watery lion’s den that he never wants to see again if he can help it. 

He splutters slightly as he pulls himself onto not quite dry but relatively solid land, keeping a firm hold of Jaskier, who feels far too cold in his opinion, especially since they're both freezing anyway. “Come on, bardling,” Eskel whispers as he turns Jaskier onto his side and tries to help him clear his airways of water.

After far too long of a minute, Jaskier coughs.

He coughs and splutters and retches but then he finally, finally  _ breathes _ and gods above if it isn’t one of the most glorious sounds Eskel has heard recently. 

“That’s it,” Eskel soothes as Jaskier sits up and groans, clutching his chest. 

He glances around sharply as soon as his eyes open and when his gaze lands on Eskel, he grins weakly. “You’re okay.” 

Eskel laughs, relaxing just a little. “I’m not the one who almost drowned.” 

Abruptly, Jaskier’s face crumples.

He curls into himself and frowns, biting his lip. But before Eskel can say anything, he’s retching again, his coughing then dissolving into moans that fade into strong shivers as he wraps his arms around himself.

“Jaskier, I-”

“I’m s- sorry,” Jaskier interrupts, “but p- please,  _ please _ don’t leave me h- here.” 

Eskel blinks. 

“P- please, just- the t- town wasn’t far and I- you can le- leave me there… but n- not here-”

“Jaskier, stop,” Eskel interjects, moving forwards and, praying that he won’t make matters worse, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, keeping his grip firm even as Jaskier stiffens. 

But then Jaskier makes a strangled noise and  _ melts  _ into him, snaking his arms around Eskel’s chest as he sobs, pressing himself as close as possible, the two of them sharing one another’s mediocre warmth even as water pools around them.

“It’s okay, I’m not angry,” Eskel says softly, “neither of us could have guessed there were two sirens.”

Jaskier’s sobs don’t quite cease but he does shuffle impossibly closer at Eskel’s words, sharp shivers causing them both to wince intermittently. Eskel has no qualms about staying that way until Jaskier recovers so neither of them move for a long while. 

And in the end, it’s Jaskier who pulls away, exhaling softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I- thank you. Thank you for… for staying. And of course for saving me, that was nothing short of  _ incredible _ . Even if I- even if I missed half of it and, um, I- I’m sorry? Have I already said that? I don’t…”

Eskel shakes his head, having just about enough experience to know that Jaskier is trying to change the topic. “You don’t have to thank me, bardling.” 

The small smile Jaskier gives him is and would always be worth diving into a lake for. Jaskier probably doesn’t think the same but he seems to sense the sincerity in Eskel’s voice because he nods and offers Eskel a wink. “Thank you, darling.” 

But Eskel isn’t done because Jaskier’s teary rambles had unveiled some of his other worries. “And Jaskier? I’m not going to leave you behind just because we got into trouble.” 

“ _ I  _ got into trouble,” Jaskier corrects, lowering his gaze.

“No,  _ we  _ got into trouble. Both of us. And we  _ both  _ talked our way out of it, right?”

It seems Jaskier can’t exactly deny that because he just nods and shuffles closer to Eskel again, sniffling. “You’re warm.” 

He makes it sounds like he’s accusing Eskel of a crime and Eskel can’t help but laugh, pulling Jaskier closer and wrapping an arm around him as he sighs quietly, contently. 

Eskel still has no idea how Jaskier can possibly be  _ content  _ with someone like him but just after narrowly avoiding being drowned is definitely not the right time to address such a thing so he chooses not to dwell on it.

“Can you walk?” Eskel inquires once Jaskier’s shivers no longer seem painful. 

Jaskier nods immediately but when Eskel raises an eyebrow, he shrugs. “I mean, probably.”

More like probably  _ not. _

He stumbles as soon as the two of them are upright, Eskel having to steady him to avoid him toppling over entirely. Jaskier laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, turns out I was in the water for just a little too long.” 

Eskel grabs his swords and all but carries Jaskier back to Scorpion, who almost bites Eskel’s ear off in her excitement. “Ow, hey, we’re all still alive,” Eskel says as he checks over her, making sure he’s not wrong in saying that.

“And you kept my lute safe, you absolute  _ sweetheart _ ” Jaskier exclaims brightly, reaching for said instrument only to fall against Scorpion with a soft yelp. To his credit though, he manages to steady himself before Eskel has to intervene. 

He gives Jaskier a moment before gesturing to the saddle. “Do you think you can get on by yourself or…?”

Jaskier bites his lip, winces, and then shakes his head. “If- if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I never will, bardling,” Eskel replies, moving to help Jaskier. 

It’s not a particularly graceful feat to get both of them up but they manage and Scorpion doesn’t seem to protest so Eskel counts it as a win. 

“Hold on,” he tells Jaskier.

“I am?” Jaskier responds, sounding so unsure that Eskel can’t help but frown. 

He knows Jaskier isn’t holding onto him because it’s rather easy to tell whether or not someone’s arms are around your waist. But then he realises that Jaskier still thinks he's meant to hold onto the saddle for some reason. 

“Hold onto  _ me, _ ” Eskel clarifies, taking Scorpion’s reins.

Jaskier is silent for a moment before he clears his throat hesitantly. “Onto you? Are you sure?” he asks, and when Eskel nods, he adds, “Won’t it be annoying?”

Eskel doesn’t know who Jaskier has previously been riding with but it would be his pleasure to not to politely tell them that holding onto the person sitting in front of you is actually the most beneficial option. 

Oh wait.

He is so going to lose count of how many times he needs to punch Geralt. 

“It’s the safest option,” Eskel says, reserving all the cursing for inside his own head. 

And that seems to be the right idea because Jaskier’s arms curl around his middle and it takes an awful lot of self-control not to shiver at the feeling despite his armour being in the way of actually  _ feeling  _ the bard’s touch.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers, barely audible. 

Eskel hums in response as the two of them set off and although they both direly need a warm bath and preferably payment to go with that, they’re more than happy to be alive and to be safe and to be far away from any kind of siren.

And to be  _ together. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for your interest and all the lovely comments, they really make me smile !! hope you also liked this chaotic chapter <3
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment? x


	7. i'm awake but still sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy it's been a while but i sort of misplaced my motivation ?? and idk where to find a new one ?? anyway, tysm to everyone who's read/left kudos/commented, can't even tell y'all how much i appreciate it <3

Jaskier almost falls asleep on the way back.

Eskel feels it several times, feels the way his breathing evens out for a moment or so before he softly nods himself awake again. He doesn’t know why Jaskier doesn’t want to fall asleep but he’s not about to interfere so the two of them stay practically silent as they return to town. 

Once they reach the stables, Eskel clears his throat. “Jaskier?”

Unfortunately, Jaskier had apparently just started to doze off again and starts so badly he overbalances and topples off the horse, landing with a harsh thud. 

“Oww,” he moans, snapping Eskel out of his guilt.

Within seconds, he swings himself off Scorpion and offers Jaskier a hand, which is actually rather  _ unhelpful _ because Jaskier has his eyes closed. Shuffling back a little, he clears his throat again. “Are you planning on getting up any time soon?”

Jaskier laughs weakly as he looks up at Eskel. “Can’t I just stay here for today?”

Eskel frowns, glancing over him. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

“I wasn’t being serious, darling,” Jaskier giggles, pushing himself up into a sitting position and crossing his legs, “but it’s good to know you’re capable of taking me seriously.” 

He’s not entirely sure what that’s meant to mean so Eskel just offers Jaskier a smile and holds his hand out again. “Come on, let’s go.”

This time, Jaskier takes it, wobbling himself upright and taking a second to regain his balance before letting go of Eskel’s hand as if it were burning him. But Eskel pointedly ignores the strange sadness that flickers through his heart at that thought because it’s illogical to assume Jaskier would want to hold his hand anyway.

“Aren’t you going to secure Scorpion?” Jaskier asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Eskel chuckles. “You don’t need to tell me what my job is, bardling,” he says before doing exactly as Jaskier had prompted, deciding that he can come back for their bags once they’ve had lunch.

He guesses that Jaskier feels the same about prioritising food because he doesn’t say anything until they get to the inn, at which point he straightens up a little and smiles. “Could we request a bath, lovely?”

The woman in place of the innkeeper raises an eyebrow at them, probably because they’re still soaking, but nods. “I’ll get someone to bring one up. Don’t get my bed wet.”

Jaskier nods seriously. “Of course not, we would never even dream of it,” he promises, leaving both the woman and Eskel to wonder what sort of dream that would be. 

Either way, Eskel follows Jaskier up, both of them all but stumbling into their room. Jaskier makes a beeline towards the bed before groaning and changing his mind to sliding down along one of the walls, settling on the floor with his legs outstretched.

Eskel frowns at him, yet again wondering if there’s an injury he should know about. “You okay, Jaskier?”

Jaskier looks up at him with a strange expression. “Aside from the almost drowning?”

Eskel snorts. “Aside from that.”

There’s a small pause before Jaskier nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just, uh, thinking of what rhymes with ‘drowning’, and actually I might use ‘frowning’ since you’ve been doing a  _ lot _ of that,” he teases. 

As if proving Jaskier’s point, Eskel frowns at his words.

Which Jaskier picks up on immediately, giggling softly. “See, there you go again. Keep at it and I might have to sing about the frowning witcher’s adventures. Just a warning, though, metaphors about facial expressions are pretty challenging to get right and you’d be subject to amateurs saying things like-”

“I really don’t want to know,” Eskel interrupts, dreading to think about it.

Jaskier winks mischievously before going quiet. 

As he does, an awful, bitter scent of something dark and decaying fills the room. Alarmed, Eskel makes to ask Jaskier if he’s upset about anything, but said bard grins before he can, springing gracefully to his feet. “Here, let me help with your armour.” 

Eskel steps back instinctively and Jaskier falters, his smile fading. “Or I could  _ not _ help you with your armour, of course. That’s always an option and I will very easily take it, no harm done. I… uh, sorry. I’m going to go… check on the bath.” 

“Wait-” Eskel starts, but the door is already closing behind Jaskier, the dark scent fading along with his presence. So he just sighs and, albeit reluctantly, gets himself out of his armour, placing it in one corner as he waits for Jaskier to return. 

It’s strange, he thinks, how quickly he’s taken to finding empty silence unsettling. He’s never been fond of pointless noise but a distinct lack of Jaskier makes him question how much he actually likes the silence as an alternative. 

And he’s not sure exactly how long he spends questioning that but eventually, Jaskier’s voice drifts into their rooms as he re-enters, followed by two women who place a steaming bath down on one side before leaving, exchanging the softest of whispers with Jaskier before they do.

Jaskier’s smile falters again as he sees the pile of armour but he brings it back before Eskel can ask anything, gesturing to the bath. “Well, go on, darling. The water won’t stay warm forever.” 

“Don’t you want to go first?” Eskel asks quietly. 

But Jaskier shakes his head. “No, no. I’d burn, and a burnt bard is no good at all. The water is perfect for you so you need to go first.” 

“But-”

“And of course, I need to wash that lovely hair of yours!” Jaskier interrupts, then bites his lip. Eskel resists the urge to ask anything and waits until Jaskier exhales softly. “That is, uh, if you still want me to do so again?”

If only Eskel were a bard so he could explain how much he truly wants that. But he’s not so he just nods, and thankfully Jaskier gets the message anyway. 

Somehow, Jaskier’s fingers moving through his hair feel even better than last time. It’s barely past midday but Eskel could fall asleep right in the bath, that’s how soothing it is to have Jaskier take care of his hair, take care of him. 

“Eskel?” he hears Jaskier whisper, promptly realising that he  _ had _ actually almost fallen asleep.  _ Again _ .

Slightly mortified, he clears his throat and sits upright. “Thank you.” 

Jaskier makes a face. “For what?” 

“For uh, for letting me use the bath first.” 

But Jaskier just squints at him as if he’s being stupid. “You’re the witcher. You killed the siren. Of course you get the bath first.”

Guilt-ridden realisation pools in Eskel’s stomach. 

“Wait, what?” is all he manages, staring at Jaskier in disbelief because  _ surely _ he can’t think he doesn’t deserve a bath just as much as Eskel when they’d played a relatively equal part in this particular contract, can he?

But they can’t have this conversation when he’s literally sat naked in a bath so he just shakes his head and stands up to get dressed, only realising his mistake when Jaskier all but  _ squeaks _ and springs to his feet, his face flushing. 

“I’m going to go… soap,” Jaskier blurts, disappearing before Eskel has finished cursing. 

Once more, Eskel is left staring at a closing door. He sighs heavily and gets dressed, but that doesn’t help because then he starts wondering where Jaskier is going to get spare clothes from. 

When he finds his thoughts drifting back to his newfound distaste for silence, he sighs and leaves their room, hoping that Jaskier won’t hold anything against him. When he doesn’t spot Jaskier either performing or at any of the tables, he walks over to the woman from earlier. “Have you seen m- the bard that was with me?”

The woman raises an eyebrow again, folding her arms. “And why should I tell you when it took you so long to try and find him?”

Eskel inwardly marvels at how Jaskier has managed to worm his way into this woman’s heart within approximately  _ one _ conversation and sighs. “I didn’t know I was meant to, he said he was going to find soap.” 

She snorts. “Well he didn’t do a very good job then.”

Eskel stiffens. “Is he okay?”

Glancing over him from head to toe, she gestures behind her. “We let him stay in the kitchens, it’s not as noisy and it didn’t seem like he’d make it back to a room on his own.” 

Red flags could not be flying any faster in Eskel’s mind as he frowns, heading to the kitchens himself. Most people shuffle out of his way as he makes his way to the back wall, where Jaskier is slumped in the corner.

Cursing none too quietly, he kneels down beside him, gently pulling away the blanket someone has draped over him. “Jaskier? Jaskier, hey, open your eyes for me.” 

Jaskier groans, half-heartedly pushing Eskel’s hands away. “Just give me two minutes, I’ll be fine.” 

“You need to tell me if something’s wrong, do we need a healer?” Eskel asks, checking over Jaskier himself and frowning harder when he finds nothing obvious. What good can he  _ possibly _ be to this bard if he can’t even keep him alive and well?

Jaskier blinks himself upright and shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just- I’m just tired.” 

Eskel can literally feel his frown deepen; he can’t fathom why Jaskier would insist on washing his hair if he was truly this tired because really, it should have been the other way around.

Someone makes a strange noise of disbelief behind him, at which point he realises he’s said that  _ out loud _ and instantly stiffens, almost regretting his life choices. Almost, because the sleepy smile he gets from Jaskier is most definitely worth a second round of being mortified. 

“Need to find more oils if you want to wash my hair,” Jaskier whispers, yawning. 

Eskel’s not entirely sure if his heart melts or skips a beat or does some unholy combination of the two but regardless, he forgets what the whole concept of replying is for an entire minute.

An entire minute within which Jaskier chuckles softly and lets his head fall forward to rest on Eskel’s shoulder. “I think it was the siren.” 

Pretending that he’s not positively delighted to learn Jaskier is comfortable enough to lean on him again, Eskel focuses on the siren. “Did she do anything to you?”

“Tried to drown me?” Jaskier offers, and Eskel ever so slightly wants to throw himself off a cliff for asking such a stupid question.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t a very good que- wait. She only  _ tried _ . She couldn’t even get you to stay quiet,” Eskel says, mostly just reminding himself because he’s pretty sure that resisting a siren’s lure has to be incredibly taxing.

Jaskier lifts his head up with seemingly great difficulty. “I’m not very good at staying quiet. But it’d be bad for business, really, wouldn’t it? What use is a  _ quiet _ bard? Well, what use is a bard to a witcher at all? But that's- I mean, never mind witchers,  _ nobody _ wants to listen to a quiet bard when they’re drunk or, or… what’s the opposite of drunk?”

Eskel blinks.

It seems they have a lot to unpack from Jaskier’s exhausted rambling but there’s a time and a place and in the corner of a kitchen just after having killed a siren doesn’t tick either of those boxes. And besides, he’s far too busy wanting to deck Geralt to answer any of Jaskier’s questions.

“You need to rest,” Eskel settles for, pulling Jaskier upright with him and wrapping one of Jaskier’s arms around his shoulders so he can support some of his weight. 

Jaskier hums. “I thought you were washing my hair.”

This time, Eskel glares at the few people who laugh, shaking his head when they step out of his way with guilty expressions. The woman in charge out front nods at the two of them, albeit not without noting the way Jaskier is so heavily leaning on him and raising an eyebrow for the  _ third _ time.

“Thank you,” Eskel mutters, because it looks like she’s expecting him to say it.

She looks almost surprised but offers him a small smile. “Meals are free of charge if you need them before you leave.”

“Too kind,” Jaskier manages to mumble before Eskel can.

Getting up the stairs is unexpectedly easy because Jaskier seems to regain his energy for long enough to reach their room, where he hesitates. “Gonna get the bed wet. She said not to,” he whines.

Eskel sighs, unable to understand Jaskier’s priorities. “She won’t mind, you’re not really that wet anymore.” 

And he’s not, even though his clothes are still an uncomfortable step ahead of damp. The blanket that’d been given to him seems to have absorbed most of the water because it looks as if he’d been caught in a light spell of rain rather than dropped into a lake. 

“She won’t be mad?” Jaskier asks, leaning on his shoulder again, the lingering scent of decay weakening a little as his voice fills with hope.

Eskel shakes his head. “She won’t, I promise.” 

“I just need a few minutes then,” Jaskier mumbles, all but collapsing into the mattress and proving that he definitely needs a  _ lot _ more than that.

Eskel can’t imagine the sheer amount of willpower it would require to resist a siren’s words for so long and overcome them well enough to negotiate an escape. By all means, it shouldn’t even be possible, but Jaskier is unlike any bard he’s ever known.

“Take all the time you need,” Eskel replies, but then frowns. “Aren’t you going to change out of those clothes first?”

Jaskier makes a face that manages to convey how much he dislikes that idea even with his eyes closed. 

Eskel finds himself chuckling at that, which seems to briefly snap Jaskier out of his exhaustion. He blinks up at Eskel and bites his lip before hesitantly clearing his throat. “Would you, uh… I mean, did you bring your bedroll this time?”

Was he  _ meant _ to bring his bedroll this time?

Jaskier groans weakly at Eskel’s confusion. “What I mean, darling witcher, is to ask whether you’re- well, I’m still damp and I rather like to avoid being a nuisance because that’s a title reserved for the likes of Valdo and I-”

“Jaskier, I don’t care if you’re still damp, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Eskel interrupts, but as softly as possible because he doesn’t want to feed the awful scent that’s still lingering around them. 

Jaskier smiles softly. “So would you- I mean, do I get the privilege of your company once more?”

How he’s managing to articulate so well despite his eyes drooping, Eskel has no idea. But what he does know is that he’d be an utter  _ fool _ to go and fetch his bedroll. So instead of replying, he simply lies beside Jaskier, hoping he hasn’t misread things in some way.

And he hasn’t, judging by the grateful look in Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier murmurs, curling towards him, already drifting into sleep.

Eskel exhales softly as their arms brush but nods. “Truly a privilege on my part, bardling.”

He’s still unsure what to do about this darker, decay-scented aspect of Jaskier’s personality but that’ll have to be addressed another time because, even though he’s not too tired himself and he was rather hoping for a good lunch, it’d be a  _ crime  _ to leave the room when Jaskier so clearly needs the rest and  _ wants  _ him to stay.

After all, delayed meals and damp clothes are an easy price to pay for being able to take care of his favourite bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for the shady lore and ooc vibes but it's the best i can do for now :p hope everyone's had a good start to september xx
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment?


	8. so just let me in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a busy couple months but are y'all ready for some seriously soft EMOTION ???

Eskel wakes up alone.

For a fleeting moment he finds nothing wrong in that since he’s more than used to being by himself on the path, but then he remembers how things have very recently changed and jolts upright, concern rushing through his veins as if it were a literal potion.

Before he’s even truly awake, he’s none too gracefully made his way down the stairs to the main room of the inn and come to an abrupt halt as he catches the familiar scent of lavender and ink and bardic warmth.

_ “You already know of the way she sings, but wait ‘til you see the gleam of her wings…”  _

He’s performing. 

Of course he’s performing. 

Eskel isn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting to find but hearing Jaskier entertain patrons with a song about sirens was definitely  _ not _ on the list, especially since he knows this must be a new song if he’s talking about the wings he didn’t know existed until just a few days ago.

_ “Be not afraid if a siren is near, for the rose of the wolves will vanquish your fear…” _

Eskel blinks.

He’d gotten distracted by the shock of realising he’s doing perhaps a little more worrying than necessary but he finds himself paying attention once again when Jaskier introduces this new nickname. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous but it  _ has _ to be for him because he’s describing a wolf witcher fighting a siren; Geralt has never been described as a rose and as far as he’s aware, Jaskier has never crossed paths with either Lambert or Vesemir, which leaves only one option. 

He’s been described as many things in his life but never has he been compared to something so beautiful as a flower. And not just any flower, a  _ rose _ . To be aligned with the beauty of a rose feels like some sort of grave and misleading crime.

_ “So call for a toast or two or more, for the rose of the wolves is right here at your door!” _

And with a rather dramatic spinning manoeuvre, Jaskier lifts a tankard from the table closest to him and gestures to where Eskel is leaning against the wall. Not having expected the attention and apparently having missed the rest of the song whilst thinking about Jaskier’s use of monikers, Eskel is wholly unprepared for the way almost  everyone turns to raise their drink in his direction, either smiling or cheering or drunkenly singing along to this new song.

He ends up being handed  _ three _ drinks before he manages to weave his way through the small but surprisingly solid crowd and settle in the corner once more. Jaskier joins him not long after, with two plates of food that he sets on the table with a flushed grin. “I’m sorry to have made you miss lunch,” he says.

Eskel shakes his head. “I’d do it again if necessary. How are you feeling?”

Jaskier shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of potato before replying, “Nothing like a good performance to lift a man’s spirits, right?”

It’s an evasive answer but Eskel lets him have it, the two of them settling into a comfortable silence that allows them to enjoy their meals. Once again, Eskel has no idea how Jaskier manages to perfectly organise drinks, meals, and performances at the same time and he’s  _ very _ close to writing it off as some sort of bardic magic. 

“So… the rose of the wolves?” Eskel asks eventually.

To his surprise, Jaskier’s face immediately flushes with an oddly adorable shade of red. “I… I didn’t mean to offend you, I know that you witchers respect your image and all! I just- I- Well, I didn’t exactly have a lot of time and I wanted to show my thanks for everything you've done but simply reworking toss a coin seemed a little  _ belittling _ so I- I tried to- It was the best I could do but if you didn’t like it, I can uh, avoid a repeat or… or come up with something else? Or-”

“Jaskier, calm down,” Eskel interrupts, reaching out to place one of his hands atop the bard’s fidgeting ones, “I’m far from offended by your flattering portrayal of me.”

Thankfully, the uncomfortably sharp scent of panic dies down and Jaskier manages a small smile. “So you liked it then?”

“No.”

Jaskier’s face falls.

“I  _ loved  _ it,” Eskel clarifies and, as rapidly as it had fallen, Jaskier’s expression morphs into a bright glee he’s only ever seen on children that aren’t quite tall enough to reach his waist. 

It takes the bard a moment to gather his wits again but he weaves his fingers in between Eskel’s and gently squeezes once he does, grinning widely. “That was just about the worst  _ and _ the best feedback I have ever received and I swear to you that I will cherish it until the end of my days.” 

“Why don’t you worry about the end of your plate first?”

Jaskier laughs and  _ gods  _ does Eskel wish he could slow the passage of time and revel in having been able to cause such a lovely sound for just a little longer. Or a lot longer. Or  _ forever _ , because he has never witnessed anything quite so satisfying as this particular bard’s happiness. 

Although in terms of satisfying experiences, Jaskier keeping a firm hold of one of his hands while they both continue eating is another strong one.  When he really thinks about it, almost everything he’s experienced with the bard is equally as beautiful: having his hair gently washed, having an arm looped over his shoulders, having eyes unflinchingly meet his, having someone to share a meal with, having warmth to keep him company at night, having his armour adjusted before he leaves the room, having-

“Eskel, darling, are you okay?”

He jumps.

Jaskier’s mouth is quirked upwards into a small smile as he squeezes Eskel’s hands again. “You’ve been staring at your ale long enough for me to steal the last of your food. Should I be giving you and your tankard some time alone? A separate room, perhaps?”

“No, I… I was just uh, thinking,” Eskel manages, overly aware of his face heating up in embarrassment as he realises that both their plates are now empty. There hadn’t been a lot left on his plate really, just a vegetable that he doesn’t know the name of but doesn’t like, but it’s still slightly  _ mortifying _ that he hadn’t noticed the theft.

“Care to provide any more specific details?” Jaskier asks, now leaning forward so his chin is propped on the base of his palm, his elbow resting on the table between them.

Eskel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before meeting the bard’s amused gaze. “You’ll have to forgive me for saying no.” 

Chuckling, Jaskier shakes his head. “How impolite to dine with someone and leave them so  _ terribly _ alone as you retreat to your own head.”

Now it’s Eskel’s turn to smile softly, mirroring Jaskier’s position with his free hand and leaning forward as far as he thinks he can without risking making the bard uncomfortable. “How can I make it up to you, bardling?”

He’s a little surprised when a soft gasp escapes Jaskier, and he’s even more surprised to realise that he’d also shuffled closer when Eskel had, meaning that he can both hear and  _ feel  _ the gasp. 

“You already have,” Jaskier whispers, his voice ghosting Eskel’s lips, “in more ways than you know.” 

Frowning, Eskel tilts his head to the left just enough to make his disagreement clear. “I have a lot of gratitude to pay back, Jaskier, and I have yet to even begin.” 

They’re so close that it seems impossible to have previously missed the tiny hints of green in the skies that are Jaskier’s eyes and yet it feels as though they are worlds apart, worlds that Eskel wishes he could but doesn’t know exactly how he’s meant to bring together. 

“I can’t wait,” Jaskier replies quietly, his voice barely present but somehow strong enough to drown out the rest of the inn around them. 

Eskel smiles once again, squeezing Jaskier’s hand reassuringly. “And I would never make you.”

There’s a pause in which both of them forget how they’re meant to even  _ breathe _ but Jaskier recovers first, his gaze briefly flickering to different parts of Eskel’s face - his scars, his hair, his lips - before once again meeting his eyes. “But what if you don't have a choice?”

“I will always have a choice,” Eskel replies slowly, some miraculously still coherent part of him recognising that Jaskier’s question holds far more weight to it than it seems, a weight that he can’t yet understand but can respect nonetheless, “and I will always choose you.”

The scent of salt slices through the space between them.

Before Eskel can form an apology, Jaskier blinks once, twice, a dozen times, enough to pull back the tears that were threatening to fall and undo the intensity of their mutual gaze.

“I… I need… I’m so sorry, I- I…” Jaskier mumbles shakily, pulling back, his hand sliding out of Eskel’s as he rushes to stand, stumbling over himself as he retreats, weaves between everyone around him, slips through the door as if he were made of smoke.

Eskel audibly exhales, not entirely sure what just happened. But he doesn’t want a repeat of the last times Jaskier had abruptly left so he stands before he can sink into his guilt, following the scent of lavender and ink and  _ salt  _ as swiftly as he can, all the way to the stables and just beyond.

It’s a pond of sorts.

And Jaskier is perched at the edge, knees pulled up to his chest, hunched over himself. 

“Jaskier?”

Obviously a bad idea.

Jaskier startles badly, his body literally jumping in the air, only narrowly avoiding toppling into the water because Eskel darts forwards and grabs his arms, pulling him back, holding him close, not letting go even when the two of them land on the muddy grass with a confused  _ thud _ .

Still nestled in Eskel’s arms, Jaskier twists and curls himself around said witcher, burying his head in his chest and breathing in his presence as Eskel guides them into a more seated position.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel murmurs, lifting one of his hands and gently brushing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, his other arm settling more firmly around his waist. And Jaskier melts at his touch, his fingers curling into rudimentary fists around Eskel’s shirt as he sighs - Eskel is suddenly very glad he hadn’t sleepily pulled on his armour earlier or else this would be a lot spikier and far less comfortable for the bard.

“You’re the last person who needs to be sorry, Eskel,” Jaskier murmurs back.

“And yet here I am,” Eskel chuckles, continuing to soothingly play with Jaskier’s hair so he doesn’t do something utterly stupid like lean down and kiss his forehead. 

Jaskier lets out something between a laugh and a sob, shaking in Eskel’s hold for a moment before he nods, shifting just enough for him to look up and meet Eskel’s eyes with a strange smile. “And yet here you are,” he agrees softly, sadly, sincerely. 

There’s a story behind Jaskier’s conflicted reaction that Eskel doesn’t have the heart to ask for, and he doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Why did you come here?” he asks instead. He had actually meant to ask why Jaskier had left the tavern but the words had changed on his tongue without him thinking about it because they’d instinctively felt  _ wrong _ .

Jaskier shrugs, resting his head on Eskel’s shoulder. “The water.” 

After a pause, he laughs a little bitterly and continues, “I know it seems strange but it’s peaceful. You must think me such a fool for seeking the comfort of what almost became the cause of my death but…”

Eskel starts to guide his fingers through Jaskier’s hair again, trying to soothe away the sour scent that threatens to creep up around them. “I don’t think you’re a fool,” he promises. 

Jaskier hums in response but Eskel can feel his doubt so he clears his throat pointedly. “You just sang about sirens, Jaskier. You sang about them despite being almost  _ killed _ by one not long before. I wouldn’t call that foolishness, I would call that  _ bravery _ .” 

“Aren’t they the same thing?” Jaskier chuckles, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mean it as a joke and Eskel is painfully reminded of his previous tired rambling about the worth of bards, or rather, lack thereof.

He wonders again just how Jaskier acts so bold and surely around everyone he meets when there’s constantly something inside him that screams such cruel lies and tries to shatter his confidence. And he wonders again if breaking the white wolf’s nose would in any way help the situation because although he knows it can’t  _ entirely _ be blamed on him, he must have fed more than copious amounts of fuel to the fire.

“Sometimes they are,” Eskel replies eventually, “but not right now. Right now, I see someone who managed to turn a near-death experience into both flattery and entertainment. Trust me when I say that’s certainly not the work of a fool.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches again but this time, he just nods, his fists finally uncurling and his arms settling more easily around Eskel. “I trust you,” he whispers and although that doesn’t mean he believes it, it’s better than nothing.

“Thank you,” Eskel whispers back, smiling as Jaskier’s scent becomes sweeter, lighter, far happier than just moments ago.

“Thank  _ you, _ ” Jaskier counters, sniffling.

“Aren’t you meant to be a master of words, bardling, not just copying mine?” Eskel asks, incredibly pleased when Jaskier laughs in response, gently butting his head against Eskel’s shoulder in mock offence.

Neither of them move until Eskel’s leg goes numb, at which point he overbalances and Jaskier, who’d been totally leaning on him, yelps as he topples to one side, both of them grabbing onto one another and landing in a horizontal heap with Eskel on his back and Jaskier half on Eskel’s chest and half in the mud.

“Ugh, this is going to stain so badly,” Jaskier groans.

Eskel snorts, still confused about the bard’s priorities in life. “More importantly, you’re probably going to have some new bruises.”

Jaskier pushes himself up to his feet and holds out a hand, which Eskel takes without thinking. By the time he’s questioning whether he should have just pulled himself up, Jaskier’s already lifted him upright and has turned to brushing grass off his shoulder.

Eskel stares at him for a moment, surprised that Jaskier had managed to pull him up so smoothly. Jaskier blushes again when he catches Eskel staring, lifting a hand to his face. “What is it? Do I have mud all over me?”

“Uh, no,” Eskel coughs, mentally chiding himself for being so obvious.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jaskier grins, half-turning in the direction of the inn as if to ask permission to return there.

Shaking his head, he gestures for Jaskier to go ahead and lead the way as if he hadn’t already decided to not only follow the bard back to the inn but wherever he wishes to go for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i know it's still messy but i just ?? really liked writing this chapter ?? gotta love idiots being mutually smitten with each other but ceasing to function when met with hints of love because ~insecurity~
> 
> thanks for reading! toss a kudos/comment?


	9. i've been in denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to be angsty but i thought that'd be mean since it's festive season n all so here's the closest we can get to fluff atm <3

“Hey, Jaskier?” Eskel asks as they reach their room.

Jaskier hums, perching on the edge of the bed and all but peeling his boots off, making a face at the way his feet free themselves with a soft squelching noise.

“Why haven’t you changed clothes yet?” Eskel continues, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting but definitely not having expected the way Jaskier freezes, his pulse spiking.

It’s almost alarming how quickly Jaskier manages to turn his panic into a grin. “I’ve been reliably informed that this blue really brings out my eyes and I don’t see any reason not to flaunt that. Certainly helps with bargaining for another drink, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Eskel replies slowly.

Jaskier laughs brightly, _too_ brightly. “Well, yes, I suppose witchers don’t often have to rely on their sense of fashion for coin, what with the whole monster-hunting business and-”

“Jas.”

“-the twin swords you all seem to carry. I mean really, they’re very intimidating to most people and while they may be useful, they’re not exactly in style. At least you’ve got a splash of colour rather than-”

“Jaskier.”

“-just black, not that there’s anything wrong with black but it does often give the impression you’re dressed for a funeral and that’s a pretty morbid picture to paint for yourself! Unless it’s Valdo Marx’s funeral, which would truly be a momentous occasion if you ask-”

“Jaskier!”

The bard flinches. 

Eskel exhales softly, trying his best to cause any kind of panic. “I’m not mad, I’m just… I’m just worried. You almost drowned in those clothes and you’re gonna make yourself ill if you don’t wear something clean and dry.”

A small smile blooms on Jaskier’s face but he shakes his head anyway. “I- uhm, I… I don’t have anything else… with me.” 

It’s not that Eskel hadn’t already guessed that, at least deep down, but it hurts to hear the confession anyway. “Then you should borrow something of mine,” he says before he can change his mind about his decision. 

Jaskier’s eyes widen as he looks towards Eskel like he’s just offered up the moon itself. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m sure,” Eskel confirms before gesturing to where his bags are in the corner of the room. “You can just, uh, choose something you like. I’m afraid I don’t have bright colours but I do own more than funeral clothes.”

This time Jaskier’s laugh is genuine and he wastes no time in making his way over to the bags, carefully shuffling things around inside one before pulling out a black shirt that has long since faded into a soft, dark blue. The breeches he finds are just a shade darker but they match enough for him to look good when Eskel turns around again. _Really_ good. In fact, he looks so good that Eskel suddenly understands what that woman from his last contract had been talking about when she’d said seeing her wife in her clothes was a truly magical experience.

“That bad?” Jaskier asks, half-laughing but clearly not very amused if the sour scent of worry is anything to go by.

Eskel shakes his head, forgetting how to use words for a second. “No, no. Not bad at all, it’s just… I didn’t think my clothes could ever look so good.” 

And he’s not even lying. He _is_ surprised that his ordinary clothes can seem so fashionable even if that’s probably a result of Jaskier generally being Jaskier and he’s even more surprised to realise that, even though they’re clearly big for him, they don’t just comically hang off him - Geralt certainly hadn’t mentioned that his- that the bard is built so well.

The red that floods Jaskier’s face most definitely does not match his new outfit but Eskel thinks it looks stunning all the same. Not that he says that aloud, no, he’s taken to biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything else stupid and scare off his favourite bard.

“I think I’m going to use the stars as an excuse to sleep again. Could you-” he bites his lip for a moment, “-uhm, that is, could you try and be back here for when I wake up?”

Eskel frowns, letting go of his tongue. “Back here?”

Jaskier exhales softly, shakily. “Or not. I mean, of course you must not be tired again since witchers don’t need as much sleep anyway but I- you mentioned travelling on together?”

Ah, so they’re not over the doubt yet.

“Are you losing your memory bardling, or do you still remember what we discussed at the table earlier?” Eskel asks, trying his best to sound like he’s teasing instead of insulting.

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow as he bites his lip and Eskel simply waits, smiling softly when Jaskier’s eyes eventually widen and his scent softens into hope and relief. “When you said you’d choose me?”

Nodding, Eskel gestures to the bed. “I meant it, and now I’ve chosen to forget my bedroll again.”

With a pointed glance at Eskel’s bags by his feet, Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Is that your attempt at flirting me into bed, darling? 

Really not having predicted _that_ kind of response, Eskel’s mind decides to stop functioning for a moment. He would be embarrassed but the way Jaskier laughs makes him reconsider his urge to flee and just shrug instead. Neither of them say anything else as they settle under the blanket again but a soft gasp escapes Eskel when Jaskier curls around him bit by bit until they’re almost entirely pressed together from Eskel’s chin resting on Jaskier’s head to their feet locked around one another’s. It’s the closest Eskel has _ever_ been with _anyone_ outside of Kaer Morhen’s cold winters spent huddled in front of the hearth and he can’t stop the smile that takes over his face.

“Promise you won’t leave while I’m asleep?” Jaskier asks sleepily.

“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up,” Eskel confirms, wanting not for the first and probably not the last time to literally knock some remorseful sense into Geralt’s thick skull.

“Thank you,” Jaskier mumbles just before he drifts off, most likely missing the way Eskel quietly confesses that it’s his pleasure.

He doesn’t sleep for even a second, he doesn’t need to after all the sleeping they’ve done in the past few days, but he does let himself relax and true to his word, he doesn’t move a muscle until Jaskier stirs again.

“Hello there,” Jaskier yawns, grinning up at him before he rolls out of Eskel’s arms and stretches his limbs as if he were a cat.

Eskel hums, returning the bard’s smile. “How do you feel?”

He already knows that Jaskier will feel better, it’s obvious that he would after sleeping off the siren-induced exhaustion, but it only feels right to ask. Besides, Jaskier’s eyes light up when he does and the warmth of his happiness fuels Eskel’s own. 

“Like I could survive a lightning strike,” Jaskier replies theatrically, and Eskel can’t stop the snort that escapes him. Thankfully, Jaskier only rolls his eyes. “Well alright, if you want it in simple terms then I suppose I feel great, much better, well-rested, all of those plain descriptions.”

“What’s wrong with being plain?” Eskel asks, turning onto his side and resting his head on one palm just in time to see Jaskier glare at him like an overly passionate professor would at a hopelessly dispassionate student.

“I have never been plain a day in my life and I certainly do not intend to start now! Do you know how many ways there are to describe waking up, Eskel? I could list them for _hours_ and still not be finished! And not to mention that after you have what may very well be one of the best nights of sleep you’ve had in years- no, _decades,_ that you really cannot be satisfied with anything even close to a prosaically _plain_ answer!” 

Jaskier looks ready to fight someone to prove his point but all Eskel can focus on is that someone would want to poetically declare a night with _him_ one of the best nights of sleep they’ve had in not even years but decades. He’d be lying if he said that, minus the sleeping part, he doesn't feel the exact same way.

“Eskel, are you even listening to me?” Jaskier whines, poking his cheek. 

He blinks, bringing his attention back to Jaskier with a genuine smile. “I think I get your point, though I’m no bard and will have to make do with being plain.” 

Jaskier scoffs. “You, plain? I think not. Have you even looked in a mirror recently?” 

While Eskel is busy trying to recall the last time he’d looked in a river and wondering if catching his reflection in his ale counts, Jaskier springs off the bed with a nervous laugh. “I um, I didn’t mean any offence by that, truly, I was just…”

“I don’t own a mirror,” Eskel says, politely overlooking how worried Jaskier seems to look for some reason and the way he’s anxiously rubbing his fingertips together the way he tends to do when he’s expecting the worst.

“Then we’ll be needing a trip to the market,” Jaskier replies easily, the tension in his expression melting into both amusement and disbelief. Eskel doesn’t usually like going to the market on account of the not quite subtle stares and not quite hushed whispers, but he might be looking forward to it this time.

“Right now?” Eskel asks, which prompts Jaskier to remember he’s still wearing Eskel’s borrowed clothes and flush red again; Jaskier points an accusing finger at him but dissolves into laughter before he can say anything, laughing for so long that Eskel wonders if he’s gone mad. Finally, he shakes his head and pulls on his doublet, the lighter blue somehow working well with the rest of the outfit.

Eskel stays still, watching as Jaskier weaves his fingers through his hair so it sweeps to one side and pulls on his boots before picking up his lute and winking. “Might be useful to gather a little extra coin first. There’ll be food waiting for you if you decide you want to listen to more of my singing.”

As if there’s even the slightest possibility that he wouldn’t. 

Still, Jaskier’s footsteps have long since faded when Eskel finally sits up and wonders how he so quickly went from leaving at the first hint of dawn to waiting for a bard to buy him a mirror. Not that he’s complaining, he might have a mean poker face but even he couldn’t pretend that finding a plateful of food waiting for him on a quiet corner table doesn’t warm his heart.

He doesn’t know what the song is about this time but it sounds lovely all the same, although not quite as lovely as the bright smile Jaskier sends his way when he notices him. He has all of three seconds to wonder what the mischievous look in those bright blue eyes is about before Jaskier starts singing about the rose of the wolves - about _him_ \- again, which leads to everyone raising their tankards at him even if they’re only half-awake.

“You don’t have to sing about me every time I enter the room,” Eskel tells him as he finishes up.

Jaskier shrugs, making sure his now-cased lute is balanced safely before slumping into the seat opposite him in yet another confusing but endearing show of priorities. “It’s the least I can do.” 

No, it’s really not. 

“I appreciate it,” Eskel says warmly, not sure he’d win in trying to convince Jaskier that he’s done far more than is expected of anyone for witchers, whether or not he’d initially meant to. Another day, perhaps. 

“The markets will open soon, are you ready?” Jaskier asks once they near the end of their meals.

Eskel raises an eyebrow as if to remind Jaskier that witchers are known to always be ready for anything. Jaskier offers him a sheepish grin. “Yes, yes, I know you all have enhanced everything and all but what I meant is, do you _want_ to go right now?”

He finishes his drink before replying. “Lead the way, bardling.”

Jaskier grins so widely that Eskel is afraid his face may crack. But all that happens is Jaskier practically inhales whatever is left of his food before rising to his feet and slinging the lute case over his shoulder. He’d ask why Jaskier is taking his lute with him but he knows the question would be thrown right back at him regarding the twin swords on his back so he doesn’t say anything, merely gesturing for Jaskier to lead the way and trying not to make it obvious how momentarily overwhelming he finds the subsequent scent of joy.

“I am going to find you the _best_ mirror, darling, I swear!” Jaskier declares happily, and Eskel doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s probably never going to actually use such an object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost 22k and they're only just barely flirting, send help-  
> no but really, i cannot believe the year is ending before all my wips ?? much love to the witcher fandom for carrying my 2020 :')
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment? x


	10. the chance to see the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year !! 2021 is lowkey already a mess so here some good vibes with these two dorks being almost the exact opposite !!

The market is loud.

So incredibly loud. 

Eskel has rarely ever come across a market so loud and even if he has, he’s never stayed longer than just passing by for necessities or just travelling through to leave town. Crowded places can never exactly be a witcher’s best friend due to all the mutations so no matter what, Eskel always feels a little on edge in markets.

Jaskier on the other hand seems to be in his element from the moment they enter the crowds. He greets practically every merchant they see even though he buys nothing from them, which baffles Eskel, who’s used to often buying things he doesn’t remotely need from various people because he feels bad for wasting their time, but it seems to be the norm for Jaskier - he figures it’s a bard thing. And a pretty _endearing_ bard thing at that.

Well, it’s endearing until Eskel bumps into someone, swivels on the spot as they both apologise to one another, and then turns back to find Jaskier gone. 

“Jaskier?” he asks, but said bard is nowhere to be seen.

Eskel groans, his mind unhelpfully reminding him of the siren incident, and cranes his neck to look over the people around him to try and spot either Jaskier’s lute or his bright doublet. When he can find neither, he sighs and starts moving, mumbling apologies every time he has to literally push past the sheer number of people that he didn’t even think could fit in this town and hope none of them think badly of him for it.

He’s just beginning to think Jaskier had used the market as an excuse to be rid of him when someone crashes into him but instead of immediately jumping back, latches onto his arm with a surprising amount of strength. 

“Eskel, there you are!” Jaskier grins, steadying himself but still not letting go. “I am so sorry for disappearing, I didn’t know you’d stopped walking.”

Eskel exhales slowly, nodding. “That’s okay. There’s just, uh, a lot of people here.”

Jaskier’s expression softens into sympathy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be so crowded. You can never really tell which towns go for the morning rush until you’re part of it, unfortunately. Do you want to leave?”

Eskel blinks at being given the choice. He’d figured that, the same way he’d taken responsibility whilst hunting a siren, Jaskier would decide their plans whilst hunting a mirror. “No, that’s fine, just… let me know where you’re going next time?”

He means for it to be a joke but Jaskier frowns, biting his lip as he slowly lets go of Eskel’s arm. The small distance that creates between them doesn’t last long because Jaskier hesitantly slips his hand into Eskel’s, not quite gripping it properly but carefully holding his fingers in place as if waiting for approval. 

As much as Eskel wants to provide said approval, he hesitates. “Are you sure? That’d send a pretty clear message that we’re… that you’re friends with a… with me.”

Jaskier smiles softly, somewhat sadly. “We _are_ friends, darling.”

“But this is different and-”

“I know,” Jaskier interrupts, “but I can’t promise I won’t get distracted again and I don’t want to get overwhelmed with your witchery senses and all.”

Oh, so Jaskier is just being considerate. Eskel chides himself for thinking anything on the contrary and nods, returning Jaskier’s smile as best as he can because he’s not about to refuse him when he’s just trying to help. “That’s very kind of you.”

Another frown flickers across Jaskier’s face but he doesn’t explain it, only nods and gently squeezes Eskel’s hand as he firmly interlocks their fingers, so Eskel doesn’t question it, letting himself be guided to the different stalls.

If later asked, he wouldn’t be able to recall what anyone was selling at any of the stalls. What he would be able to recall is the way their hands may as well have been made for being held, the way he could feel a firm tug all the way up to his shoulder every time Jaskier turned to admire something or the other, the way Jaskier turned around with a look of concern if Eskel didn’t move fast enough when being pulled along.

He genuinely has no idea how much time passes before Jaskier comes to a complete stop with a rather dramatic gasp. “That one! Oh, Eskel, isn’t it lovely?” Jaskier asks, gesturing to a small, circular mirror. 

The merchant seems a little sceptical to hand it over at first, presumably not a huge fan of witchers, but Eskel watches as his gaze travels to their connected hands before his doubt morphs into amusement. When he looks up again, he’s smiling and offers the object up with no hesitation, which is a little confusing but it’s not like Eskel is going to question it.

“Well, what do you think?” Jaskier asks as Eskel takes the mirror, squeezing his hand in what could be excitement or support but is appreciated either way.

It’s a pretty simple design, with one side smoothed down perfectly to create a reflective surface and the other side curved outwards with a flower carved into it. He shrugs. “It’s really nice.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Melitele save us from witchers and their limited reviews. It’s a _rose_ , Eskel. It’s not just really nice, it’s perfect!”

Well, if Jaskier is so determined to continue comparing him to roses, he’s not going to complain regardless of how much he disagrees. And yes, upon further inspection the carving _is_ an impressively delicate rose, so he smiles. “It’s really perfect?” he offers.

Both Jaskier and the merchant laugh, and Eskel is so distracted that he forgets to pay attention to how much Jaskier is spending on the mirror, on _him_. He’s drawn out of his thoughts when Jaskier tugs on his hand again, grinning. 

“You’ll be happy to know we can leave now!” he announces. Although Eskel is more than relieved to finally get out of the sensory mess otherwise known as a market, he selfishly doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier’s hand yet.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Eskel asks.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Not really, no. I replaced my lute strings not long ago and we just ate and I don’t really have much coin left anyway because the patrons of this town aren’t particularly generous so there’s nothing keeping us.” 

With a sigh, realising there’s no excuse for them to stay attached any longer, Eskel releases his hold on Jaskier’s hand and starts walking back the way they came. He makes it about three steps before the scent of honey he’s so quickly become comforted by turns sour. Though when he turns to see what’s happened, Jaskier is smiling as if there’s nothing wrong.

“You forgot your mirror, Eskel,” Jaskier tells him with a nervous chuckle, holding out said object. 

He takes it from him but that can’t have been the matter because Jaskier still smells the way Lambert does when Vesemir withholds his brewing privileges. Before he can ask, Jaskier brushes past him and speeds up so quickly that Eskel almost loses sight of him again before he manages to catch up.

“Jaskier? What is it, did something happen?” he asks eventually, by the time they’re nearer the inn and there are less people around. 

Jaskier shakes his head but doesn’t stop walking. Eskel glances between him and the mirror, which he then pockets so he doesn’t break it, before sighing, confused. “Do you need more coin?”

That seems to have been the wrong way to go about fixing things because Jaskier turns on his heel and folds his arms, all but glowering at him. “I do not and will _never_ need your pity coin, I am perfectly capable of covering my own expenses, thank you very much!”

Eskel wants to disagree, considering that Jaskier is currently wearing _his_ spare clothes, but he also has the feeling that Jaskier wouldn’t take too kindly to him pointing that out. Instead, he just shrugs. “I’m sorry, bardling, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Jaskier interrupts once more, but this time he just sounds tired, his previous determination long-gone. “Just tell me honestly, was it really that bad?”

“What?” Eskel asks.

Jaskier gestures vaguely to nothing in particular and yet somehow looks surprised when Eskel doesn’t seem to catch on. He sighs quietly. “You know, holding hands?”

Wait, _what?_ Oh gods, Eskel seems to have completely missed something here. And apparently Jaskier has too, because he seems equally as lost when he sees that Eskel has no idea what he means, his glum transforming into uncertainty.

“How about we go inside first?” Eskel suggests, which he feels is the most logical course of action since the inn is within sight.

The second they’re back in their room, having deposited their respective lute and swords on the floor, Jaskier whirls and gives Eskel a pointed look. “You let go of my hand. I think it’s better _you_ explain why instead of me standing here and guessing.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Eskel says honestly, “you said you were helping me in the market and I didn’t want to take advantage of that kindness once we left.”

Jaskier scowls, but it’s clearly not directed at him because the next thing he does is launch himself forwards and throw his arms around Eskel, who definitely doesn’t stumble in a not entirely unpleasant shock, no sir.

“All due respect, darling, but you witchers can be so stupidly obtuse,” Jaskier mumbles into his shoulder and Eskel laughs, letting himself relax into the embrace and waiting patiently until Jaskier eventually pulls back, thankfully free of any sourness.

“Just to clarify then: this is permission to uhm, hold your hand even when we’re not in markets?” Eskel asks, swallowing down the awkwardness he can sense burning inside him even as the words leave his mouth.

Jaskier grins. “Yes, even the mightiest of witchers are allowed to engage in the more ordinary act of hand-holding.” 

Although he’s sure his doesn’t have quite the same charm to it, a matching grin blooms on Eskel’s face. “You know, I thought it was rather _extraordinary_ , actually.”

Just as Eskel had predicted, there’s about three seconds of confusion before Jaskier blushes and his grin once again widens in a way that seems impossible and highly dangerous. He’d say it must be another bard thing but he’s beginning to think it’s just a _Jaskier_ thing and he’s almost afraid of how many _Jaskier things_ he’s been keeping track of lately.

“You’re quite the flirt for someone so obtuse,” Jaskier informs him, raising an eyebrow. 

Eskel shrugs. “Must be the company I’m keeping.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests, but the accompanying giggle just makes it sound adorable. As soon as he thinks that, though, Jaskier smirks at him. “So you’re keeping me?”

Ah, not again. He truly has no idea how he’s meant to react to what he’s almost certain is flirting and unfortunately, that fact only seems to amuse Jaskier instead of discouraging him. Not that Eskel has any idea why anyone, especially this bard, would want to flirt with him in the first place. 

“You’ve got your thinky-face on again,” Jaskier accuses him quietly, poking his chest. “Do you really have to think so hard on the concept of keeping me?”

Eskel finds himself shaking his head just a little too quickly. “No, no. I would be honoured to continue keeping your company, I just- I don’t know how to do this.”

Jaskier tilts his head to the right, raising an eyebrow. “With ‘this’ being what, exactly?” 

That’s exactly what _he_ wants to ask. 

“This… this flirting thing,” he settles on. 

“I wasn’t really considering it to be a _thing_ so much as just the flirting,” Jaskier says, so quietly that it’s barely even a whisper. 

Eskel can literally feel the way his eyes widen. He can also literally smell the way Jaskier begins to doubt himself so, without thinking, he reaches out and grabs the bard’s wrist, instantly regretting that choice when Jaskier flinches.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting go immediately, “just, uh, just don’t leave yet. Please.”

With a slow exhale, Jaskier nods. “Yet?”

“You can leave whenever you wish,” Eskel clarifies, relieved when all Jaskier does is smile rather than take him up on that offer. 

To his credit, Jaskier barely even moves as Eskel tries to compose himself. He rubs his fingertips together before just wrapping his arms around himself and shifts from one foot to the other but he doesn’t leave, giving Eskel as much time as he needs to choose an answer that doesn’t come across as something else that can be taken in the wrong way.

In the end, he just sighs. “I don’t- I mean, I haven’t been flirted at for longer than I can exactly remember. You’ll have to forgive me for not knowing the difference between the typical bardic reputation and the- and anything more… serious.”

“Bards can’t be serious?” Jaskier jokes, but it seems like an automatic response rather than his genuine response if the frown on his face is anything to go by.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eskel replies, very much wishing that he did. 

Jaskier nods, reaching out for and taking both of Eskel’s hands. “I can assure you that despite also holding the uhm, the _typical bardic reputation_ , I was being entirely serious about flirting with you.”

Eskel was a little afraid of that, to be honest. 

“But if you don’t- that is, if it were to make you uncomfortable, I would be happy to uh, take that problem off your hands and stick to less serious flirting,” Jaskier adds, “or no flirting at all, even. That one may be _considerably_ more difficult since flirting essentially becomes second nature in my trade but I can certainly attempt such an endeavour if it would ensure that we continue to travel together. And I’m aware you’ve already told me you’re happy with that arrangement but it only feels right to make sure in case-”

“You can stay sure,” Eskel cuts in before Jaskier rambles himself into a mess, “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“But?” Jaskier asks, raising an eyebrow.

Amazed at how the bard somehow knows he needs to continue, Eskel smiles a little. “But I don’t know how to flirt and be serious about it.”

And he genuinely doesn’t. Obviously. He’s a witcher, he’s more than lucky if anyone at a brothel wants to keep their eyes on him, never mind maintain a conversation, and even then, that’s only if he goes to one in the first place. It’s not like he’s never been flirted at before, but it’s a little hard to take any of it seriously when it’s usually accompanied by undertones of fear or curiosity or mocking jest. 

“It’s not like I’m an expert,” Jaskier scoffs and immediately, inexplicably, some of the tension in Eskel’s body melts away.

“What about all those romantic ballads of yours?” Eskel asks, frowning.

Jaskier shrugs, his thumbs drawing tiny soothing circles on Eskel’s hands. “Just because I sing about relationships doesn’t mean I’m in one, darling.”

Eskel is honestly a little baffled by how that can be possible. He can’t imagine being blessed with someone like Jaskier and then deciding _not_ to try and keep him around - which reminds him to violently berate his brother for doing so - but frankly, he’s pretty glad nobody else has because if they had, he’d never have been given the chance himself. 

“You look nice in my clothes,” Eskel blurts and, going by the redness that bridges over his nose all the way to his ears, Jaskier mercifully seems to understand what he’s trying to convey. 

“I hope you’re aware you’re not getting them back now,” Jaskier teases. 

Eskel shrugs. “A loss I’m willing to endure.”

Jaskier laughs brightly, throwing his head back with his hair arching messily in the air above him, his hands tightly clutching onto Eskel’s to stay balanced, and Eskel doesn’t need to be an expert on relationships to know that he’d happily lose any of his belongings if it meant being able to keep Jaskier in his life.

Well, maybe not his mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in retrospect, i might have made them a tad ooc by projecting too much but hey, it be like that sometimes :)


	11. the clouds are in your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: the blind leading the blind, the insecure leading the insecure...

It’s not until the next morning that Eskel thinks of going to the tailor. 

He wakes before Jaskier this time, almost shocked by the warm weight of the bard’s head on his chest before he remembers where he is and how they’d wordlessly drifted off together after another of Jaskier’s performances the night before.

“Hmmnn-uh?” Jaskier mumbles as eloquently as can be expected first thing in the morning. 

Eskel laughs. “To you too.”

It takes several moments that Eskel definitely doesn’t use to openly stare for Jaskier to blink himself awake, at which point he groans softly. “Are we late?”

“For what?” Eskel asks, frowning. 

Jaskier wiggles himself upright and almost immediately, Eskel feels cold for no logical reason. By the time he’s also sat up, Jaskier is squinting at the window as if it’s going to tell him the secrets of life, but also as if he’s in danger of falling back asleep.

“We’re not late for anything,” Eskel says when it doesn’t seem like Jaskier is going to elaborate on his question.

Jaskier jumps, apparently having forgotten he’d been talking to someone at all, and offers Eskel a sheepish smile before rubbing his eyes. “Sorry. I, uhm- where are we headed next?”

“I was headed north, if you’re amiable,” Eskel replies, finding it a little difficult to take his eyes off the way Jaskier’s hair is an absolute mess and yet still looks good on him, which really should be a crime of some sort.

“Is there something on my face?” Jaskier teases.

Embarrassed, Eskel shakes his head. He bites his tongue and keeps it metaphorically bitten as the two of them make themselves presentable, only making any sound at all when Jaskier crashes into him in the middle of the room, at which point he lets out a soft _oof_. 

“Sorry, I- Not quite used to getting ready in someone else’s presence,” Jaskier admits sheepishly.

“No harm done, bardling,” Eskel replies and without thinking, reaches up from where he’s steadying the bard to push back the hair that’d fallen over his eyes as they’d collided.

He doesn’t notice what he’s doing until he hears Jaskier’s heart speeds up. He doesn’t smell fearful but he’s still nervous enough for Eskel to snap back into the moment and step back so he doesn’t make Jaskier uncomfortable. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier breathes. 

“It looks really nice,” Eskel mumbles, gesturing to Jaskier’s hair. 

Jaskier smiles happily for all of one pleasant moment before his face falls into something like grief and he turns, grabbing his lute and getting to the door before Eskel catches up with the change of events.

“Hey, wait, did I say something wrong?” Eskel asks, sliding between the bard and the door.

There’s a horrible second where Jaskier looks like he’s about to cry but he just shakes his head and offers up a smile. “No, no. Of course you didn’t,” he mumbles, but his voice is thick and he smells like a wilting flower.

“What is it?” Eskel asks softly, hesitant to reach out in fear of his touch being unwanted. He quickly gets over that thought when he sees Jaskier twisting his fingers together as if he wants to reach out himself but isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to; not wasting any more time, Eskel gathers Jaskier close, wrapping his arms around the bard and letting him bury his head in Eskel’s shoulder as he exhales shakily.

“I’m so-sorry, I-” Jaskier cuts himself off, his hands looping around Eskel’s back. Eskel doesn’t say anything, having had enough experience to know it’s better to let him compose himself again rather than interrupting. 

Eventually, Jaskier’s breathing settles into his normal pattern and his heart calms enough for him to stop holding himself so stiffly. He doesn’t move to let go of Eskel so Eskel doesn’t let go of him either. 

“I haven’t been able to truly look nice since I traded my clothes,” Jaskier says softly, “and I just… I just wish I could’ve done this _properly_.” 

Eskel blinks.

Traded his clothes? 

As much sense as that makes, it also doesn’t make any sense. Jaskier is a bard and Eskel has heard him sing, has seen him be tossed coin after his sets, has watched him barter for a night’s stay without having to pay, so why would he have had to trade his clothes?

Jaskier seems to pick up on Eskel’s confusion because he squeezes gently and sighs. “I uh- I mean, it’s quite embarrassing, really. I spent far too long being maudlin after- you know, and my songs were all… well, _awful_. Nobody pays to be brought to tears in a tavern and I- It was rather difficult paying for… anything.”

Eskel mentally kicks himself for not realising that sooner. He’s been such an idiot thinking that Jaskier had just stored the bright outfits Geralt had half-heartedly complained hurt his eyes somewhere else. 

“And you only kept one?” Eskel asks tentatively, even though the answer is obvious because Jaskier is once again wearing the bright blue one that he claims brings out his eyes, the one that had almost been ruined when he’d nearly drowned but seems to have somehow survived, a touch faded but otherwise intact.

Jaskier shrugs. “Travelling light became a useful habit.” 

As much as Eskel wants to point out that Jaskier shouldn’t feel the need to do so now that they’re travelling together, there’s something else that still doesn’t make sense to him. He gently pulls the two of them apart and looks directly at Jaskier as he asks, “What did you want to do properly?”

His face tinting red, Jaskier shrugs again, directing his gaze to their feet. “Look nice?”

“But you do look nice,” Eskel says, confused.

“I don’t! I look… I look like a _mess_ and as much as I appreciate your kind words, darling, I really can’t accept them as truth because I’m not impressing anyone as much I should looking like this and I hardly think-”

“Jaskier,” Eskel interrupts, gently tilting the bard’s chin up until their eyes meet again, “they’re not just kind words. I really- I genuinely think you do look nice. Better than nice but I don’t have your poet’s vocabulary to prove it.”

Jaskier’s heart is beating faster again but this time Eskel doesn’t worry about it because he smells like honey and his eyes are shining with hope rather than the threat of tears. 

“I genuinely think you look nice too,” Jaskier says, his voice barely louder than a whisper but filled with enough sincerity for Eskel to believe he’s not lying where he would usually just scoff and reject the idea entirely. 

“Your opinions, no matter how bizarre, are your own,” Eskel replies, chuckling.

But Jaskier frowns and lifts a hand to cup the unscarred side of his face, fingers ghosting over his cheek, behind his hair, at the edge of his hairline. His touch is gentle and so loose that Eskel could get rid of it just by tilting his head a little but instead of doing so, he just focuses on Jaskier and the way his frown melts into a warm smile when their eyes meet.

“They’re not bizarre. I’m an _excellent_ judge of what can be considered attractive and you, my dear, pass with flying colours,” Jaskier says firmly.

“Jaskier…” Eskel starts, only trailing off when said bard all but glares at him.

“I did not find you a mirror so you could continue to wallow in ignorance, Eskel. You have to look at your reflection with _my_ eyes and _my_ opinion and you have to see how handsome you are, do you hear me?” Jaskier asks, his commanding tone frustratingly similar to even the likes of Vesemir. 

Finding himself unable to argue, Eskel shrugs. “Only if you promise to do the same, bardling.”

Jaskier blinks at him. Twice. Then his lips curve into an amused smirk. “You strike a hard bargain.”

“Take it or leave it,” Eskel offers.

It only takes Jaskier a second to nod his agreement, after which he steps out of the little bubble of personal space they’d been sharing and grabs his lute. “Why don’t you pack up and join me once you’re done? I’ll steal away a little more coin before we continue, uhh, what did you say? North?”

Eskel hums affirmatively, his thought process stuck on the delicate warmth of Jaskier’s touch until the door clicks shut and he’s alone once more. Only then does he look around the room and notice his spare clothes folded at the foot of the bed, at which point he decides he absolutely _cannot_ morally allow Jaskier to travel with him knowing that he only has one outfit. One beautiful and yet rather impractical outfit. 

By the time he’s packed up what little of his belongings needed to be and sat down at a corner table to eat, having been handed a drink along the way thanks to the bard’s rose song, he’s already decided they’re going to take a slight detour and he’s almost certain Jaskier won’t be opposed.

“If you’re not going to eat that cheese, I am,” Jaskier declares, stealing said cheese from Eskel’s plate as he slides into the seat opposite him.

“What if I was saving that?” Eskel jokes. But Jaskier doesn’t seem to get the message and pauses mid-chew, eyes widening, looking for all the world like he’s about to offer Eskel the cheese back even though he’s practically already started digesting it. 

“I was joking, Jaskier, please keep chewing,” Eskel says quickly, not sure if he’s meant to laugh or feel bad about who the bard has gotten in trouble with for stealing food in the past.

An accusatory finger is pointed at him once Jaskier swallows. “What an atrocious thing to do to the man who’s just sung ale onto your table.”

“Sorry,” Eskel mumbles, “but I do appreciate the ale.” 

“As you should,” Jaskier replies, grinning.

Having been reminded that he probably shouldn’t make any questionable jokes or announcements whilst they’re eating, Eskel waits until after they’ve finished before saying, “I- we have one more thing to do before we leave town.”

Jaskier tilts his head to the right. “Oh?”

“We need to visit the tailor,” he clarifies.

Unexpectedly, Jaskier frowns, looking him over. “Why? Did you ruin something? You don’t look like you need anything repairing.”

Eskel frowns back. “What? No, I’m fine. We’re going for you.”

Even more unexpectedly, the scent of wilting flowers returns. Jaskier seems to shrink in his seat, wringing his hands together as he looks up at Eskel, confused and obviously hurt for some reason. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

The _what’s wrong with me?_ goes unspoken.

Jaskier flinches as Eskel curses and the sheer self-control it takes for him not to flee once again is unmissable. Eskel appreciates it greatly because it gives him a moment to reach across the table and take one of Jaskier’s fidgeting hands.

“Nothing. I swear there’s nothing _wrong_ , I just- I thought you’d appreciate a little variety now that you- now that _we_ can afford it.”

As rapidly as Jaskier’s scent had soured, it sweetens when Eskel’s true motivations dawn on him. He blushes but for once doesn’t seem to care, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know, I’m so sorry. I _do_ appreciate that, I- Thank you, that means more than I can say in mere prose, truly,” he blurts, rushing over his words.

Relieved that his words haven’t been taken in the wrong way, Eskel sighs softly. “You don’t have to thank me for it. You earn as much coin as I do and it’s only fair we both have suitable spares.”

Jaskier hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps, but I seem to have almost lost touch with the notoriously colourful bard I used to be known as and it, uh, it feels odd to be given that option again.”

Well, that’s something Eskel can understand; outward appearance is so often defining and limiting to the self that changing it can seem like the end of an era. And forcefully having it changed by the winds of fate can seem like the end of the world altogether. 

“A good odd though, right?” Eskel asks, hoping Jaskier will say yes because he’d hate to be the only one out of them experiencing an odd but not unpleasant change.

“Definitely a good odd. One of the best kinds of odd. An odd so good that I could kiss it,” Jaskier mutters, clearly lost in thought.

Eskel can’t help it, he laughs. He almost regrets it when it attracts the attention of a few curious strangers but he doesn’t dwell on them, simply admiring the way Jaskier realises what he’d said and groans, his face yet again flushing as he clears his throat awkwardly, pointedly taking a gulp of his ale to hide his embarrassment.

“Ready to leave?” Eskel asks, taking pity on him.

Jaskier nods quickly, standing and swinging his lute over one shoulder. “Yes, absolutely, _so_ ready. Never been this ready in my life, in fact.”

“I’m sure.” Eskel tries his best not to laugh as the two of them leave for the stables to pick up Scorpion on their way. 

It’s a little strange for Jaskier to be so quiet but it’s not like Eskel can’t tell he’s excited from the way he’s all but vibrating as they walk. They’re going a little slower than they had in the market yesterday because they can’t exactly hold Scorpion’s hand to guide her along but Jaskier seems as though he’d have been restless even if they were sprinting. 

“I haven’t been here before,” Jaskier says when they finally stop.

Eskel steadies Scorpion before looking over to him. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I suppose I’ll find out. You’re staying outside with Scorpion, yes?” Jaskier asks, and Eskel is a little shocked to realise he hadn’t actually considered that himself.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Eskel promises.

Jaskier grins happily at him before disappearing into the little building so Eskel just lets out a quiet sigh and leans against the wall as Scorpion occupies herself with some grass, keeping half of his attention on everyone who passes by in case of any threats and the other half fixed on Jaskier’s heartbeat - he’s not quite sure if that’s for the bard’s sake or his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i just cannot believe i use up so many words for next to nothing and then i remember how so much of the feedback i've been given in life equates to 'be more concise' and it all makes sense again ¬_¬


	12. i'll be your lighthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't think i'd be able to finish this in time but i felt like spiting that RI spoiler so happy valentine's !!

“Ow, Scorpion!” Eskel grumbles as said horse headbutts him. 

It’s the third time she’s done so in the last two minutes and at this point, it’s safe to conclude she’s trying to complain about Jaskier taking too long. Eskel would agree with her but he doesn’t actually know how long it’s supposed to take anyone to purchase several items at a tailor’s so he sticks to waiting. 

And waiting. 

And waiting.

And being headbutted by Scorpion twice more.

And waiting.

And-

“Eskel!” 

He turns his head to see Jaskier beaming at him, a small bag slung over his shoulder. It takes him a moment to realise what’s changed but he feels like a fool when he does for the bard is now wearing an  _ entirely _ new outfit and it’s such a blatant contrast from his previous faded blue look that he has no idea how he nearly missed it.

“Well, what do you think?” Jaskier asks, his eyes bright. 

Eskel blinks. “It’s very different.” 

And it is. Although his chemise is a dark grey that’s only one shade away from looking like a shadow, both his doublet and his breeches are a deep red, decorated with spiralling silver patterns and black buttons that look far too delicate to function properly. 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Thank you, darling, I hadn’t noticed.” 

“And it looks, uh, very striking,” Eskel offers, still internally trying to get over how well the colour somehow makes his eyes seem even brighter. 

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn’t seem too bothered by disjointed feedback, turning his attention to Scorpion when she steps towards him, gently running his fingers down her mane. “Sorry I took so long but not to worry, dear girl, I found you some apples.”

Eskel watches, transfixed, as Jaskier pulls an apple out of his pocket and offers it up to her, this time with no hesitation or guilt whatsoever; it’s oddly relieving to know the two are on such good terms for some reason.

“I really am sorry I took so long, Rafal was just finishing something else up - a spectacular dress I must say - and wouldn’t let me leave until I bought  _ two _ sets even though I told him  _ several  _ times that someone was waiting for me!”

Chuckling, Eskel shakes his head. “It’s okay, we didn’t mind the wait. Especially not if it means you look so much more, uh…”

Jaskier smiles. “Like myself? Like a bard? Like someone you’d wish to be seen with? Like a true master of the liberal arts?” 

Eskel starts nodding, only to frown. Before he can voice his complaint at Jaskier’s phrasing, Jaskier clears his throat. “So, should we get going? You mentioned travelling north, I believe. Piana would be the obvious next place to stop, though if you intend not to appreciate being able to sleep under a solid roof for as long as possible, then I suppose we could simply follow the river?”

“We can stop at an inn,” Eskel says first, a little confused. 

“Great! I’m  _ almost _ certain I’ve never ruined any marriages there so it should work out perfectly. Shall we?” Jaskier asks, holding out a hand.

Eskel is too busy wondering how Jaskier breezes through conversation so smoothly to catch up in time and unfortunately, he only figures he’s missed something when the air turns sour around them. 

Cursing internally, he blinks himself back into the present. It’s only a second later that he notices Jaskier pulling his hand back. He reaches out to grab it before Jaskier gets the wrong impression, gently entwining their fingers. “Hey, what happened?”

Jaskier exhales slowly. “I thought for a moment that you might have… changed your mind. About the- this,” he manages, squeezing Eskel’s hand.

“Not for as long as I live, bardling,” Eskel promises; he’s more than proud of the small, honey-scented smile he receives in reply.

Scorpion headbutts him again, at which point he remembers what he was going to ask. “You said you only bought two sets?”

“Yes?” Jaskier frowns. “I did try telling him I only really needed one of each thing but Rafal was so adamant, you should have seen him! A lecture on fashion to rival my own, truly! But I honestly didn’t mean to-”

“No no, Jaskier, wait,” Eskel interrupts, “It’s okay. I’m glad you got more than one, that was the point after all. I just meant to ask if you’d like Scorpion to carry the bag, it doesn’t seem heavy and we’re both walking so it’s no trouble for her.”

Jaskier’s mouth forms almost a perfect circle before his cheeks flush and he nods. “Oh. Well, that would be lovely. You are most certainly the kindest man to grace the continent!”

Eskel can’t help wondering what kind of men Jaskier is used to dealing with if he thinks such simple compassion is so difficult to encounter. There’s one obvious answer but he’s certain Jaskier’s expectations are rooted in far more than just his time with Geralt so he holds off on cursing him this time. 

He also briefly wonders if there’s anything in the bag at all, it’s so light in comparison to when he has to carry his armour anywhere, but Jaskier hadn’t smelt like he was lying so he doesn’t risk worrying him by asking as he attaches it to Scorpion.

“Could I-?” Jaskier cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath and tries again. “Could I have my lute back?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Eskel replies, easily handing it to him. 

Jaskier nods, visibly relieved, and slings the lute over his shoulder where the bag had been. Though it seems as though the bag had been a substitute for the lute case if the way Jaskier’s whole frame seems to relax is anything to go by. It reminds him of how comforting it is to feel his swords at his back and he’s glad that Jaskier had felt confident enough to ask for such comfort. 

With that, they set off, Eskel keeping Scorpion’s reins in one hand and Jaskier’s hand in the other. It’s a little odd to have both his hands occupied but he can’t say he’s complaining. If he’s honest, he’s doing the exact  _ opposite _ of complaining. 

“Why red?” Eskel asks eventually. 

Jaskier jumps, his grip on Eskel’s hand fleetingly tightening to an almost painful level. He chuckles softly as his pulse slows to its normal speed. “Quite simply, darling, it reminded me of you. I thought it would only be fair for my first new look to reflect the one who prompted its existence.”

Eskel has to close his eyes for a moment in order to process that. He’s not sure what he’d been imagining - something to do with poetic contrasts or rebuilding, perhaps - but such casual sincerity hadn’t even registered as a possibility and he’s pretty certain the newfound warm twisting of his stomach relates to being honoured. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “but you really didn’t have to.” 

Jaskier turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t have to delay our travels in the first place but here we are. Now stop rejecting my gratitude or I will  _ force _ you to listen to it in every single tavern we stop by.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?” Eskel points out.

“That doesn’t count!” Jaskier argues. “That one is beneficial for  _ both _ of us.”

It probably is, but Eskel has a feeling their reasoning would be rather different. He doesn’t say anything else, though, just gently tugs Jaskier close until their shoulders are brushing and appreciates the way his breath hitches before he relaxes again, smelling sweetly of silk and sunshine. 

He’s never before been in such close contact with someone for so long but it’s a pleasant change. Jaskier starts humming after a while, swinging their hands in tune with whatever he’s singing in his head, and Eskel has to force himself not to distract or interrupt him because  _ good gods _ the experience is so soothing. 

Predictably, Jaskier freezes once he stops humming, looking for all the world like a kitten caught pushing something off a table. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t need to apologise,” Eskel finishes for him with a smile that he wishes could be as soft as he intends it to be. 

“Right,” Jaskier agrees, then laughs. “You haven’t heard that one before, have you?”

Eskel shakes his head. “Should I recognise it?”

“I would be surprised if you did,” Jaskier says, “for I got it from a crumbling tome written in elder that I stole from an ancient crypt deep within the forests.” 

“You what?” Eskel frowns, not sure whether or not he should be concerned that Jaskier is inadvertently summoning vengeful spirits or the like with whatever it is he’s using to pass the time. 

It takes Jaskier a minute to stop laughing. “Okay, I lied. It wasn’t buried in a crypt and I didn’t steal anything… that time. But it  _ was _ from an old tome written in elder.” 

Eskel sighs but gives in and laughs when Scorpion nudges him, causing Jaskier to grin happily. “Clearly one of you thought it was amusing, what brilliant taste she has! Hey, that deserves better than an eye-roll!”

“Perhaps,” Eskel admits, almost guilty about said eye-roll. Almost. 

Jaskier snorts. “We both know you’re secretly amused too. So, do you want to hear it? Do you know elder?”

Eskel shrugs. “A little. Probably not enough to understand your song, though.”

“We’ll see!” 

And so they do. Except Eskel  _ doesn’t  _ see because he understands perhaps a dozen of the couple hundred words Jaskier sings, but it sounds enchanting all the same. It also  _ feels _ enchanting because Jaskier taps out the rhythm onto the back of Eskel’s hand as he sings and he’d be lying if he said his whole arm doesn’t feel the resulting warmth. 

He’s not sure what to make of the words themselves; Jaskier’s tone is filled with hope and agony and something wistful that sounds as if it’s been plucked from the dreams of fallen angels. His voice never wavers in the slightest and yet there is an unease to his singing, a promise that threatens to be broken, a wish stuck between being fulfilled and being destroyed. It’s beautiful and it’s painful and it’s nothing he’s ever heard before.

Jaskier is breathless when he stops, face flushed and eyes sparkling, and Eskel wishes he knew more of what had been sung so he could adequately express his admiration. “That was magnificent,” he whispers finally.

“It is,” Jaskier agrees after catching his breath, his grin so wide it looks like it’s about to break free of his face altogether. “It was years ago but it feels like just yesterday that I learned it. I don’t even understand every word but it still makes sense together, like a mystery that can only be solved if it’s being sung.”

Eskel has no idea what he means but it sounds poetic and seems to fit him perfectly so he just hums in acknowledgement and lets silence wash over them as they continue. Not that the silence lasts long.

“Why do  _ you _ wear red then?” Jaskier asks.

Unprepared for such a question, Eskel draws a blank. “It hides the bloodstains?”

Their hands being firmly tied together means he’s forced to stop walking when Jaskier freezes on the spot, his face a comical epitome of shock.

“Gods, Jaskier, I- I was joking. It’s not really- It’s just a nice colour,” Eskel blurts, torn between laughing and cursing at himself for being so thoughtless. 

He swears he can literally see Jaskier’s exhale. It only takes a few moments for him to recover and use his index finger to poke Eskel’s chest. “Don’t ever joke about bloodstains like that. I am well aware that you witchers like to think you can get injured and bleed out and stitch yourselves up as you please but you  _ can’t _ . You can’t and you shouldn’t and I swear if I was in charge of things, I would have it  _ outlawed _ to- to not take care of yourselves. You horrible, selfless, insensitive, beautiful beings. No!  _ Ugh _ , that was meant to be an insult.”

Eskel is still torn between laughing and cursing but now he’s aware of a much more tempting third option, which is to wrap his arms around Jaskier and hold him close for a moment. A long moment. Several long moments, really. 

Jaskier buries his head in Eskel’s neck so Eskel lifts one arm to curl his hand around the back of Jaskier’s head, gently running his hand through his hair. Jaskier shivers at the touch but only holds on tighter so Eskel takes that as a sign to continue, waiting patiently as the wilting flowers in the distance between them fade into calmer waves of ink and rose and sunrise.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel murmurs.

Sighing softly, Jaskier pulls back. “No, I’m sorry. I…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Eskel says, even though he would very much appreciate an explanation for such a fierce response. 

Jaskier shakes his head, brushing non-existent tears from his eyes. “I need you to know it wasn’t your fault… It was the... song. It’s a rather powerful tale and I forgot how hellish it is to convey. There are a lot of emotions involved in storytelling, you know?”

He doesn’t, not really.

And he wants to ask about the song, about whatever it is Jaskier had been singing about. He wants to ask what was being said and what the mystery entailed and why it was  _ hellish _ to convey but the last thing he wants is for Jaskier to panic and spiral into guilt so he swallows his questions down.

“I can imagine,” he says, offering a smile.

Jaskier grins at that, raising both hands and placing them gently on either side of his face, his thumb stroking careful lines across his cheeks. “You have the sweetest smile, Eskel.”

When Eskel makes to pull back, Jaskier leans forward and draws him close until their noses are pressed together, his hands keeping his head where it is without hurting him even in the slightest. “Don’t run from my words, darling, they’re only the truth and they’ll catch up with you in the end.” 

“Why does that sound like it’s a threat?” Eskel asks, his throat strangely clogged. 

Laughing, Jaskier brushes his thumbs across Eskel’s cheeks again, this time tracing his scars. “It  _ is  _ a threat. I’m very threatening.” 

Eskel laughs. He hears Scorpion huff behind him and that only makes him laugh harder, Jaskier joining in until they’re both forced to let go of each other lest they topple over and hurt themselves. Well, falling over wouldn’t exactly hurt a witcher but Eskel doesn’t want to take any risks on the behalf of bards.

“Shut up, I can be threatening!” Jaskier exclaims, but he’s too busy trying to catch his breath from laughing too hard to sound as if he’s telling the truth. 

“Of course. I feel very threatened,” Eskel teases, but it’s not quite a lie. 

A part of him certainly feels threatened, the part that never before considered his smile sweet or his voice kind or his actions worthy of song. Though perhaps that’s a threat worth embracing, he thinks. Then Jaskier’s hand slips back into his and he decides it’s most  _ definitely _ a threat worth embracing, with both arms wide open. 

Scorpion must agree with him for she nearly breaks his nose as she moves her head, forcing him to step closer to Jaskier until they’re back to their arms brushing as they walk, falling perfectly into step with one another.

_ “The murky depths of a hollow love, the lies that you see above… the surface…”  _

Eskel groans as Jaskier starts singing again, still not remotely comfortable with hearing about himself so often, but both of them know it’s more of a performatory complaint because being immortalised in song is an honour he won’t refuse. 

He has no idea how Jaskier can walk and sing at the same time and he makes a mental note to pause for a break once the song is complete. The lyrics all but wash over him as they walk because he’s too focused on the way Jaskier keeps swinging their arms or tapping on his skin to keep himself in tune, and this time there's no subtle melancholy to watch out for.

_ “Be not afraid if danger is near…”  _

He does glance sideways at that, though, because he’s pretty sure Jaskier had mentioned a siren as opposed to generic danger before, but Jaskier is grinning and winks at him when their eyes meet.

_ “For the rose of the wolves will hold your hand.”  _

Eskel smiles back at that, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hand. He doesn’t quite know how to convey that he feels the same way so he just raises an eyebrow. “I could have sworn that rhymed last time.”

Jaskier splutters in offence for a moment before elbowing him. “It’s not as though I’ll be singing that line in taverns, it wouldn’t be right for dozens of strangers to steal your lovely hands away.”

“Not to worry, bardling, It’s not a service I offer to just anyone,” Eskel laughs, frankly not convinced that anyone else would even be interested. 

“Well I intend to take  _ full _ advantage.” Jaskier winks again. 

His face now all but aching from smiling for much longer than he’s used to, Eskel nods. “The pleasure will be all mine.”

Jaskier beams at him, his face still flushed from having sung for so long, and Eskel is absolutely sure that had their positions been reversed, he’d likely have sung that into a ballad of some sort.

“We should probably take a break,” Eskel says a couple minutes later once they reach a suitable place to stop, a small clearing visible not too far from the road.

As if on cue, Scorpion neighs and stops walking. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Jaskier chuckles. 

And when they settle to eat this time, they’re sat right beside one another, their elbows bumping and their knees knocking together every so often, and Eskel marvels at how something so new and unfamiliar and borderline threatening can also seem so  _ right _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, it's not quite valentine's-worthy romance but there's only one braincell between them and scorpion has it atm so this is the best we can do-


End file.
